The Complete Ares Snow Trilogy
by Ironsides
Summary: In honor of the release of the Hunger Games feature film, here is the Complete Ares Snow Trilogy. Twenty-five years after the fall of the Capitol, Panem has become a free and just nation, but a new threat appears that could destroy everything.
1. Author's Preface

_Author's Preface_

I must admit, I was extremely skeptical when I was first handed a copy of the novel, _The Hunger Games_, by Suzanne Collins late last summer. The plot seemed interesting, but I still hesitated. Eventually, after enough poking, prodding, and nagging, I finally cracked the cover and was thrust into the dystopian future of Panem, a world I would never, ever leave and would come to change my life.

Never before had I been so focused on finishing a series of books. Finding time to read became the highlight of my day and I would regularly go without sleep till one or two o'clock in the morning just to see what would happen to Katniss Everdeen next.

In just two short days, _Hunger Games_ was done. Finding myself on a business trip of sorts where I was unable to purchase _Catching Fire_, I was able to extort it from a co-worker who brought it along. That novel fell in just over twenty-four hours. Finally, with no hard copies available of _Mockingjay_, I did something I swore I'd never do, download it as an e-book onto my smart phone (I strongly prefer the feeling of paper in my hands when I read). I just couldn't stop. That book was done in a mere sixteen hours.

I became an ambassador of these stories, plugging them to anyone and everyone lucky enough to be in my path …not exactly an easy task considering my line of work (not to reveal too much about myself, but let's just say Ares Snow and I have something in common).

After the books were finished, I found myself completely unable to let these stories go. Something captivated me about the world and characters that Suzanne Collins masterfully created. I thought about it when I was awake, and dreamed about it in my sleep…_and I wanted more. _

I had been introduced to fan fiction a few years before, but never wrote it seriously, choosing to focus more on original work as an amateur (actually _very_ amateur) writer, but then the idea to write a story that took place in Katniss and Peeta's world hit me like a pile of bricks. I just had no idea what it would be about.

Suddenly, after contemplating for over a week, I realized what was so important to me about _The Hunger Games Trilogy_…they were about love. No, not just love between Katniss and Peeta, or even Katniss and Prim. They were about the love of everything: love of friends, love of one's country, love of freedom, even learning to love one's self. That is the moment that Ares Snow was born in my mind. He was a man full of pain and guilt. A man very few people ever wanted to see survive, but through the power of love…_he found a reason to fight_.

So, last October, I sat down in front of a computer screen and started furiously pressing keys. Three months later, by some miracle, three complete novels were in my hard drive. As some of you already know, I previously published these stories through and was soon overwhelmed by the amazing amount of positive reviews and feedback I received. Nothing makes me feel better as an aspiring writer than to hear words of support from anyone who enjoyed, or was even mildly amused by my stories.

Now, in honor of the release of _The Hunger Games_ feature film, I wanted to re-release the _Ares Snow Trilogy_ as a complete set. If you are reading them for a second time, thank you so much. I'd love to hear from you again. If you are reading them for the first time, _enjoy, enjoy, enjoy _and then please let me hear from you for the first time. You'll meet some old characters and a whole lot of new ones (all of whom I hope you'll like just as much). Even if you hate this series, let me know that too. I just want to know what people think.

A special, amazing, and unending thanks to Suzanne Collins for giving all of us little people the world of _The Hunger Games _universe. If you think I don't really mean that, check out the picture on my profile. I'll have the Mockingjay with me for the rest of my life…_now both inside and out._

Oh, and one more thing:

_May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor_

_-Ironsides_


	2. The Hunted Chapter 1

I walk through the streets of District 12 doing my best to conceal my unease. The people stare at me as if I'm some kind of unknown pathogen, a possible threat. It's completely understandable. Even though it's been over twenty years since the Capitol rained fire down upon this place the emotional scars still run deep. The presence of any uniform must be a painful remainder of the need to distrust authority here.

I do my best to seem relaxed and congenial, but know I am failing. I guess it's not too often that any military officer of the United Districts of Panem makes an appearance in this District, especially one like me. As I walk from the train station into the town square, I pass a few older residents sitting at a table in front of a merchant's shop. They sit quietly laughing, playing a local card game I don't recognize. As soon as they catch a glimpse of me, the laughter stops. I try to give a friendly nod of my head, but it does nothing to alleviate the sudden tension. It may be simply my nerve induced imagination, but I feel like I see a glint of recognition in their faces as if somewhere deep down in their psyche a bandage is being ripped from an old wound that still has yet to heal. I increase my pace as much as possible without being noticed. I don't belong here and I know it, but I'm on a mission. A mission that for the first time in my life the UDP Defense Ministry has not assigned: this one is personal.

I make my way to Victor's Village, a group of 12 houses that serves as a reminder of the Games that once plagued this nation. The Games that changed the course of everything, resulted in the birth of this new country, and forged my life in a way that only I understand.

Only two Victors live here now. Until four years ago, there was a third until he finally passed away…I hope in some measure of peace. When I heard, I thought of performing this mission after his funeral, but finally decided it would be too damaging and too painful for everyone involved.

I pass a simple memorial to all the Fallen Tributes of District 12; a simple stone Obelisk with a bronzed plaque listing 147 names. Donated from the masons of District 2, the thought, "Morbidly Appropriate" crosses my mind considering so many of these names fell at the hands of the Careers of that District. As my mind scrolls over the weathered etchings, I recognize all that I see. My mind puts the names to their recorded faces. I replay their ghastly deaths in my mind. Every day of my youth was spent watching the reruns of the Hunger Games. Over and over my mentors drilled the images into my young mind while constantly reinforcing the horror of what I was seeing. I push the emotions down as they threaten to erupt because seeing this crafted piece of rock is like seeing the tombstone of family.

"No," I say to myself under my breath as the anger resurfaces. Besides Venus and Lizzy, I have no family. I hate the rest even though I never met them. These names are more than family. These names are the ones I love.

It's obvious which house is the one I'm looking for. It's the only one that seems alive. It's the only one that's a home. Green grass covers the lawn leading to the front steps. The flower baskets under the front windows are filled with gloriously colored wildflowers gathered from a dozen different meadows in the woods surrounding the town.

I'm more nervous now than ever. The thought that I should just turn around now and explain to Lizzy that I couldn't do this simple task tempts me, but the knowledge that she would never let me live it down drives me forward. I pause at the bottom of the first step to adjust my uniform. Meticulously, I pinch the creases in my black trousers and tug on the bottom of my black shirt to make sure it hangs correctly. I pull on the side of my blue beret to ensure it is still tightly fitted to my head before I check my polished gold badges, make sure that the Colonel insignia on my epaulets still gleam in the sunlight, and that the flag of the United Districts of Panem on my right shoulder is still in a condition befitting my hosts considering they did more to fight for it than anyone else. A look down to see the Mockingjay with wings unfurled proudly surrounded by thirteen stars on a field of thirteen stripes, one for each of the Districts of Panem. There is only one thing missing: my nametag. I never wear it in public unless I have to and removed it before I even stepped foot on the train in the Capitol Station. That piece of information must wait until the time is right; if it ever is right.

"The Mockingjay," I think. "I can't believe that I'm finally going to meet _the Mockingjay_. I gather the courage to slowly climb the steps as my heart begins to pound and I feel the wetness of my palms. I wasn't this nervous the first time someone was shooting at me. I raise my hand to knock when the door suddenly opens. Standing before me is Peeta Mellark. His eyes burn right at me, instantly trying to determine what kind of threat I pose. His eyes widen, as if he recognizes me, the nervousness and fear in my chest reach a climax. I fear that he'll lunge forward and try to kill me, and I would honestly not blame him if he did. Perhaps it would even be fitting as if the Universe was trying to balance itself out.

However, he suddenly relaxes (if only a little) just enough to say one sentence:

"What do you want?"

"Mr. Mellark," I say trying to sound as unimposing as possible. "My name is Ares. I've travelled all the way from the Capitol, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to have a few words with you and Ms. Everdeen."

"Her name is Mrs. Mellark now," he responds sharply. "It's been Mellark for a long time."

"Of course, I'm sorry," I say politely but inside I'm cursing myself for saying such a stupid thing.

I think he's about to slam the door in my face when suddenly he steps and gestures towards the hallway.

"Please, Come in." I step inside and am led down a plush green-carpeted hallway toward the delicious smell of roasting game. The painted walls are lined with incredible paintings of gorgeous landscapes. From the forests of District 7, to the orchards of 11, and even the skyline of the Capitol, I soon recognize them as some of the most beautiful spots in all of Panem.

I hear the sounds of children playing on a tile floor. "Katniss!" he yells toward the kitchen. "We have a visitor." Above the doorway, hangs a glorious black bow and quiver. I have to hold back my desire to touch it. This is bow built by the Victors, used in the Revolution, and that almost killed President Snow.

Not wanting to try my hosts' patience any further, I take a final breath and step inside. There sitting at the table is the Mockingjay, whose glorious deeds in the Arena have been my guide my whole life. She looks up and freezes as her grey eyes meet mine. I see the same look that crossed her husband's face. With reflexes like I've never seen in even the most seasoned combat veterans, I see her reach for something behind her back. "Katniss, No!" Peeta yells from behind me. The boy and girl on the floor freeze as if they've been trained for something like this. She slowly pulls her hand from behind her and places them on the table. "Prim," she says softly yet sternly, "Take Haymitch upstairs and don't come down until Mommy or Daddy come and get you, understand?" Wordlessly, the girl takes the boy by the hand and leads them out of the room. Obviously, they have been trained, trained for the day that a man or woman like me would appear and shatter what peace they have been raised in. I suddenly feel like the most selfish individual in the world. What right do I have to do this? To violate the sanctity of this hallowed place? However, I know there is no turning back now.

Peeta slowly circles around behind me and joins his wife behind the table. He softly places a hand on her shoulder. I notice the calming effect it has on her immediately but she still eyes me like a mother bear who feels her cubs are threatened. Peeta is the first to break the awkward silence.

"You're a little young for a Colonel, aren't you?" Little does he know that I was raised to this rank from almost birth.

"Mr. Mellark, Mrs. Mellark," I manage to speak, "I don't know how to even begin, but I've been looking forward to this moment for almost my entire life.

I see them both tense as if they think I'm about to draw a concealed weapon. The time for subtlety has passed, only the truth will do now. "Mrs. Mellark, as I've already told your husband my name is Ares and I've travelled all the way from the Capitol to ask just one thing from you both," I pause not knowing how they will react. "I ask your forgiveness." This floors them. They seem confused, searching my face for some clue to my identity which I believe they already secretly know.

"Who are you?" Katniss asks forcefully in a voice I recognize from the endless hours of studying her recordings. Her eyes continue to stare directly into mine. It is like "the Girl who was on Fire" is trying to set me alight with her gaze.

"I was two years old during the District Rebellion. There were sixteen of us, including myself and my older sister," I say as I begin my long painful story. "We were the children and grandchildren of President Snow's Council of Ten." The Council of Ten were President Snow's must trusted advisors; the oligarchs of the Capitol and principal cause of the District's endless pain. If every crime they ever committed was put on trial, the proceedings would probably still be going on. After the war, Snow decided to stay for a last stand. He had no intention of becoming someone else running prey. The rest fled the Capitol and were eventually hunted down in gruesome, if not ironically fitting ways.

"After the fall of the Capitol," I continue, "the new government took us into custody and raised us to revile everything about those who conceived us. Their justification was to prevent any possibility that we would turn into a threat to the new country or attempt to regain power.

As we grew, we began military style reeducation, and they punished both our bodies and our minds. We were forced to learn every single crime of our families, principal among those The Hunger Games." I fight back the emotions again. "My sister and I have watched in endless detail every death, every kill…and _every_ victim."

I scan their expressions hoping to find some reaction. I'm not sure what I see, somewhere between pity, horror, and anger, and I'm not sure if it's directed at me. "There was however, one bright spot in my education." This perks their interest. _"You."_

"Us?" Peeta responds with half surprise and half trying to elicit more information.

"Your love for each other which overcame even the horror of death. Your desire to protect each other even when the Capitol made you choose between destroying each other or destroying yourselves. Your passion in your resolve to give freedom to the oppressed People's of Panem!" I realize now how ridiculous I must sound to them. Like an obsessed fool; so enamored that he can't realize the bigger picture outside the drama of the arena for these two. The emotion is building back inside of me despite all my best efforts. I fear I might lose it, but I exercise discipline and steady myself. "You are both my heroes on which I have modeled my life."

At first I think they find this insulting, but they continue their interrogation of me with a steady coolness. These two have been through too much suffering to accept me so quickly.

"If the Capitol views you as such a threat, then why did they make you a Colonel in their Army at such a young age?" Katniss says in way that makes me feel she's trying to trap me like an animal in her famous snares.

"As each of us reached the age of seventeen, our mentors gave us a choice: enter a life of self-imposed exile in the Districts living under constant government surveillance, or continue our training and dedicate the remainder of our lives to serving the United Districts of Panem until our new nation required our death."

"Nothing has changed," Peeta whispers in a depressed tone.

"I think it has, Sir," I find myself saying almost reflexively, "before they wouldn't have given us the choice." I think this might have had some effect on them. I continue.

"Fifteen, including my sister, chose exile. I chose service, mostly because I felt I had the most debt to repay." If they hadn't guessed my identity by now I'm sure this is the final clue they need.

"Why now?" Katniss fires back at me. "Why after all these years have you finally decided to come to us now?"

"Because I may not have much time left. Fourteen of the original sixteen have disappeared without a trace in the last year. All that remains of the Council's descendants are my sister and me. I've moved her to the Capitol for protection, but I fear that even that is not enough to save us. Whoever wants us gone has left no clues and doesn't seem to have made a single mistake.

My wife said that if I didn't do this now, I could die without showing my love and appreciation for the two people who I feel are most like parents to me." I tell that my last statement has made Katniss's skin crawl but Peeta seems like he could be actually touched by my sentiment. "I mean she owes such a debt of gratitude to you both as well. The stories her aunt told her of you during the last Quarter Quell and the Rebellion are the only way she has ever really known her uncle outside of television." This strikes them both immediately.

"Who is your wife?" Peeta quickly asks.

"Her maiden name is Elizabeth Odair." I respond kindly. Tears begin forming in Katniss's eyes. "But I call her Lizzy."

"Finnick," she finally manages to get out.

"Lizzy was Finnick's niece, born in District 4 during the uprisings. Her parents didn't tell her much at first because they thought it was safer that way, but as soon as she was old enough, she found Annie and the two have been inseparable ever since. Annie used to even call her the daughter she could never have. Lizzy wanted to come and finally meet you as well, but she thought it might be too much for you to absorb all at once."

"Can…" Katniss actually trembles. "Can I see her?" I pull a photograph out of my shirt pocket that I brought just for this purpose.

"It was our wedding day." I say handing her the picture of us holding hands on a beach in District 4 just as the sun was beginning to set. The polished sea shells and corral covering Lizzy's dress glimmer in the fading light. Annie stands next to her with a smile so wide that it almost seems she had completely forgotten the years trauma in her life. Katniss slowly runs her hand over the image of Lizzy's red hair.

"She has Finnick's eyes," Katniss says lovingly.

"They remind me of the sea," is all I can respond.

"This picture definitely shows how much they love you," Peeta says.

"Which means Finnick would have loved you as well…"Katniss adds trailing off.

"How is Annie? Could we visit?" Peeta asks hopefully. I pause this time.

"Sadly, she passed away last year," I say, "but I assure you it was peaceful and in her own warm bed. All of her family was with her. As her heart began to fail she simply placed my hand in Lizzy's and told me it was my job to protect her now. A few minutes later, she whispered, 'Finnick,' and then just went to sleep."

"How death should be," Katniss says. "Full of love instead of hate and fear." She leans back into Peeta's chest as he wraps his arms fully around her.

"The descendant of a Capitol Councilor marrying into the family of two Tributes, maybe there is hope for this country yet," Peeta says with the hint of a smile which I deeply regret having to spoil.

"Not a Councilor…and not the child. _A grandchild_." They stiffen again and now I am sure they know my secret.

I also know that it is time to leave. I turn toward the door, feeling slightly crestfallen until Peeta's voice catches me.

"Ares, you have my forgiveness." Words that I know are the most difficult for him to say considering his history. Katniss says nothing but the look in her eyes tells me that I have hers as well.

"Please, tell Lizzy that she is welcome in our home any time. I already consider her," she pauses as she painfully considers her next words. The fact that she has the strength to say them makes me love her even more. "I already consider _both _of you family." Her voice then turns hard as rock. "Find who is doing this to the Sixteen before it's too late. If anything happens to you, I know that Lizzy would die inside as much as I would if something happened to Peeta. The Hunger Games needs no more victims. Understand, Soldier?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And may the odds be ever in your favor, Ares," Peeta adds with another smile. Again, he shows that his remarkable talent to say exactly the right thing at just the right time has not faded. I simply smile back and turn to leave again.

"Wait," Katniss says just before I leave the room. "No more implied truths and no more lies," she says as her eyes look straight into me. "Have the courage to tell me your last name. Say it aloud." I obey an order as any good soldier must.

"Ares Snow. My name is Ares Snow."


	3. The Hunted Chapter 2

I lean against the window of the train as we fly through the wheat fields of District 9 at several hundred miles per hour. The golden acres turn into a blur that stretches toward the horizon. The blazing sun of the late afternoon just begins to dip beneath the western mountains which house the Capitol. We will arrive in only a few hours.

There was a very spirited debate whether or not to move the seat of government after the Revolution. The idea of keeping control in the same buildings that housed our former tyrants was abhorrent to many and at first ruled out. Then the endless months of debate and counter debate in which District the new Capitol would be built. No one could agree. 2 of course wanted it because they felt that had the most to lose by changing the Capitol. 11 wanted it because they felt that they were the most abused District under Snow's government. A representative from 4 even suggested putting the Capitol on a ship and sail it around the entire coast line of Panem.

Eventually, we realized that the greatest compromise would be to keep things exactly as they were, with one major difference. Though people who lived within the Capitol would have the same rights as those who lived in the Districts, they would receive no representation in the legislature. Only the Districts would have the right to pass laws for themselves.

"More coffee, Sir?" A voice breaks my concentration and rouses me from my meditative state. I turn to find a female attendant holding a pot over my empty cup.

"Yes, Please," I respond mindlessly. She fills my cup to the brim, pulls some sugar packets and cream from a pocket on her black apron and moves on to the other passengers in the car. Since travel between the districts is no longer restricted, more and more citizens move around the UDP for business or pleasure. One of the new government's first initiatives was to develop a more robust infrastructure, including a national rail line at prices that people in every District could afford. I wouldn't call it luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it's comfortable and efficient. District 1 to District 13 in about 24 hours, why ask for more?

Even though I could probably swing a private train with my position, I never do so unless I absolutely have to. I enjoy being around people; makes me feel more like a normal human being rather than some kind of fugitive. However, of course, the name tag stays off.

After another half an hour or so, the setting sun finally outpaces our journey westward and darkness envelops the train. I look to my left to see a mother traveling with her two children. Their dress indicates that they have been on the train since District 8, a very long day indeed. They all seem to be fighting sleep but losing rapidly. The mother is probably a few years older than me, and therefore probably has some recognition of the old regime. Her two boys can't be older than five or six. All three of them quietly slip into slumber. I smile as I think it is because the mother knows her children will never be taken away from her and therefore has never had to warn her children about it. They have never had to watch slaughter become spectacle. Never wonder if the boys will be forced to go to the steps of the Justice Building to sign up for tesserae just to put something in their empty bellies and that their mother will have to make a meal possibly bought with her own offspring's blood.

Peeta's words run through my head once again:

"The descendant of a Capitol Councilor marrying into the family of two Tributes, maybe there is hope for this country yet." I know he is right, and it is like a weight lifted from my shoulders, until I remember the whole reason I made this trip. The Sixteen are disappearing.

I keep staring at the mother and the two children and wonder if I will ever have the chance to begin a family with Lizzy. There was never a question that the two of us wanted children from the very beginning. District 4 has two traditions: fishing and large families. Lizzy was the youngest of six. From what I could gather, the Snows didn't share in that thinking. Large families are often to the detriment of despots bent on establishing a dynasty. My grandfather had one son, and that one son had two children, myself included. When I married Lizzy, I swore that I would change that and start a family that would only be limited by the amount of love in our hearts rather than who would be a better choice to carry on the status quo. Now, as I face the possibility of having that future ripped away by a stranger I have never met, I think back to Prim and Haymitch Mellark and am least happy that Katniss and Peeta were able to have that future. They probably deserve it more anyway.

My mind continues to drift. I remember the very first time I ever met the woman who would become my wife:

I had been alone in the Capitol for two years after my decision to stay. I had flung myself into the military life and had just returned from my first combat: the border incursion of the Central American Union. They were never powerful enough to challenge the Peacekeepers of Panem with their ancient claim on the land that had become District 10, but figured that the new UDP government was weak and disjointed enough that a single district could be ripped away. They were wrong. The mechanized unit I commanded led the charge and we pushed all the way from our Borders to the Trans-Oceanic Canal. Total Victory.

The result was that my minders now had at least some trust in my intentions and gave me a level of freedom that was new to me. The thirst to learn was overwhelming, and I began to pursue education, foremost among them psychology. Specifically, I was interested in if it was possible to repair the mental damage that lingered after intense trauma. I thought that maybe someone could one day erase the hatred of the Hunger Games without having to cease educating people about it; repair the damage of the past without risking making the same mistakes and maybe give me the ability to one day reclaim my name.

One day, shortly after my nineteenth birthday I was on the campus of Capitol University when I saw a flyer for a lecture that would be conducted the next night. It was titled, "Breaking Through the Darkness: Healing the Wounds of the Hunger Games." My jaw dropped as I saw the name of the guest speaker, a young undergraduate researcher from District 4 named Elizabeth Odair. I knew the last name, and I knew that I would be in attendance.

The next evening I filed with the rest of the attendees into the main lecture hall of the Psychology building and watched a woman walk toward the podium on the stage. She wore a very plain skirt and blouse, her red-hair was pulled back behind her head, and everything about her screamed academic, but I immediately saw past all that. All the way to something that was unlike anything I had ever seen. She began her lecture.

"By the time I finally met my aunt, Annie Odair, better known to Panem as Annie Cresta, Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, nearly twenty years had passed since her victory and almost ten years since the horror of the Capitol's retribution during the Revolution, but her mind was still trapped in the grip of her pain. However, with a lot of work and even more love, pain can be defeated…"

I sat enraptured for the next two hours as she explained the work she had done with Annie and related it to a variety of theories that I really did not understand. She was brilliant and beautiful, and I wanted to be close to her.

As soon as her closing remarks were over and the applause had begun, I leaped from my seat and ran to the base of the stage. She was surrounded by a group of senior professors who were stunned both by her youth and her work. I laid in wait with quiet patience just as if it was an ambush. I would not let her get away without at least talking to me. Finally, I made my move.

"Fantastic lecture. Just fantastic," I said throwing my hand in her path before she could leave.

"Thank You, It's something very personal to me," she said trying to sound polite.

"To me as well." I replied which struck her as odd.

"You're related to a Victor? Cause if so I'd love to interview you." She was always about business in those first few years.

"Not quite."

"Ah," Lizzy said raising her eyebrows. It was obvious that I was not the first male suitor who had tried the tactic of pretending to be interested in her work. The real difference with me was that I wasn't pretending. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I'm really quite famished as I haven't had anything to eat since this morning so I'd like to get back to my room…"

"Well, that's convenient. I know this incredible little bistro just a few blocks from here. Nice quiet little place that's perfect for chatting."

"Listen, you're really quite cute," she said in a patronizing tone, "almost too cute, and I really appreciate the fact that you just assume I'm single…"

"Are you?" This flusters her.

"That's not important!" She says slightly louder than she intended. "Look, it's nothing personal but I make it policy to not date fellow students. Things just get too complicated."

"Good thing I'm not a student here then. Listen, I'm not proposing marriage here, I just want to offer someone who obviously has an enormous amount of knowledge on a subject that I am very fascinated by a meal in exchange for answering a few of my questions."

She looks mildly interested now.

"Just dinner?"

"Just dinner."

"And all I have to do is answer a few questions about my theories."

"Plain and Simple."

She gives in.

"Well then, lead the way, Sir."

I'm ripped back into the present as the train lurches to a halt. I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep. I wipe a tiny bit of drool from my sleeve and rub the fatigue out of eyes. My watch says that it is after midnight, and outside of the window I see Capitol Station. I'm home.

I take a taxi from the Station back to my Apartment Block. Normally, I would choose public transportation, but its Saturday night and the busses and trains will be crammed with drunks on their way home from the nightclubs or a party. Not everything has changed here.

We pull up to the outside of my building and I grab my single black backpack. It was a short trip, but after what I accomplished everything feels different. Now Peeta and the Mockingjay know who I am, they know about my family, and they know about what's happening to the Sixteen.

On the elevator ride to the top floor, I come to the realization that now I really can't fail on my mission to find out who is doing this. If something happens to me, the Mellarks will have another loss thrust upon them from the Snow family, and that is something that I will not allow to happen.

It's nearly one o'clock in the morning when I step toward my front door. Two guards who I have left to protect Lizzy in my absence nod in acknowledgement as they see me round the corner from the elevator.

"Welcome Home, Colonel."

"Thank you. Speaking of Home, you're both relieved. Get out of here you've done a great job."

"Are you sure you don't prefer us to stay until morning?"

"No, go ahead," I say as I swipe my thumbprint over the plate on the door. The lock clicks open. "I'm going right to bed."

"Yes, Sir." The two disappear around the corner back toward the elevators.

I quietly open the door; sure that Lizzy is asleep by now. I told her not to wait up for me. I should have known that she wouldn't listen. I look across the living and dining rooms toward the huge plate glass window that looks over the Capitol Skyline. Her back is to me. Her long hair is down and she's wrapped up in a cream colored silk robe. I try to be sneaky but we both know that she's heard me come in. She still plays along.

I tiptoe up behind her and then wrap her up in arms from behind. I lean over and take a deep breath. She smells like the sea after a storm. The ocean must be in her blood.

"Hey you," Lizzy whispers back to me.

"Hey." I can tell she wants to ask me everything but is afraid to in case something has gone wrong. She remembers that she is the one who forced me into this. Finally, after a few seconds, I finally answer the questions she hasn't asked.

"I met them," I say trying not to reveal too much.

"What did they say?" I stare into her beautiful green eyes, the ones Katniss said look like Finnick's.

"I told them about you," I say slightly changing the subject. "Peeta and Katniss both say that you're part of their family." A single tear runs down Lizzy's face.

"They would say that wouldn't they?" she says grinning from ear to ear. Lizzy can't fight the urge anymore and leans forward to kiss me. Our lips meet and it's like being wrapped in a warm blanket again. After a few blissful seconds our lips part and she remembers the other half of my mission.

"What about you? Did they figure out who were or did you have to tell them?"

"They figured it out."

"And?"

"They both forgave me." She lets out a deep sigh of relief and wraps her arms around me again. I look back down into her eyes.

"You can finally put that part of your life to rest."

"Not at all. I still have to find out who's causing the disappearances. The other fourteen have to be avenged. Until then nothing has changed."

Lizzy knows how serious I am. She looks back into my eyes this time.

"You don't know that the others who disappeared are dead."

"If they're not, then they probably wish they were by this point."

"Then for them and for you, you must succeed."

"Of course I will," I reply with the smirk I only get when I'm talking to my wife. "It was a mission from the Mockingjay herself."


	4. The Hunted Chapter 3

We sleep late the next day. It's the bright rays of sunshine streaming in through the bedroom window that finally force me to open my eyes. Lizzy is jostled awake as I climb out of bed and check the time on my communicuff. I curse as I realize what time it is.

"What is it?" Lizzy asked through a relaxed, sleepy haze.

"It's almost noon," I say.

"What's the problem? You're on pass until tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes, but there's a lot I needed to get done: check on Venus, examine the latest intel briefs for President Holmes, and then go back and re-read the report on Juno Bunton. There's got to be something we've missed." Juno Bunton was the last of the Sixteen to disappear, vanishing last month from her apartment in District 1 where she was working as an apprentice jeweler. Her father, Gaius, was the Treasurer of Panem and one of the most important members of the Council of 10, cooking the books of the Central Bank to amass a ridiculous fortune for each of the Councilors while making it seem that all the Districts were still not producing enough to meet their quotas. Embezzlement does not even begin to describe the intricacy of their operations. It was State Policy. Millions starved while Snow and his cronies earned more than they could spend in a hundred lifetimes.

Lizzy sees that I'm becoming distracted.

"And I have a hundred Intro to Psychology papers to grade that were all probably cut and pasted from the Central Data Net. _Relax_. You'll never solve anything until you at first settle your thoughts." She says beckoning me to come join her again in bed. I try to resist at first, but then realize that the warm sheets will win out.

She cozies up next to me and I immediately become lost in the rhythmic beating of her heart as I lay my head on her chest.

"I visited Venus yesterday."

"How is she?"

"Upset that she had to be dragged from her cabin in District 7. She misses the peace and quiet of the forest."

"And she was old enough to remember what this place was like before…" I add trailing off.

"She understands why you had to bring her here, though. She knows it's for her own good."

"Does she? When I first told her about the disappearances she almost sounded relieved. I think she's been expecting something to happen like this our whole lives. Now, it's like the wait is finally over and we can get it done with."

"You know she really doesn't believe that?"

"I hope not, but I'm not so sure."

"Either way, we should invite her over for dinner tonight. Get her out of that windowless apartment that's constantly being watched by security guards."

"Yeah, you're right. I've been a very bad brother lately."

"You've been a very busy brother lately. Tell you what, I'll even make my famous fish-head stew." I grimace a bit as Lizzy says those words.

"You know I hate that stuff, right?" Lizzy glares back in my direction but then gets her trademark smirk.

"Yeah, but your sister doesn't," I shake my head but she just smiles. "Also, I went ahead and reserved the Spym for tomorrow morning at our usual time."

"Thank you. That was another thing I had to do," I say finally picking myself up toward the bathroom.

The Spym is another Capitol Tradition that survived the Revolution. A combination of the words, "Spa" and "Gymnasium" most of the larger buildings in the Capitol have one in their basement, but even the poorest blocks have a public one that everyone attends on a regular basis. In the Dark Days, there was no shortage of Avoxes to man the hundreds of massage rooms, saunas, and relaxation pools that catered to the Capitol's never ceasing desire for pleasure. The Avoxes are long gone, but the decadence remains, though in a far more muted form.

I refused to attend at first not wanting to deal with the personal connotations that would arise, but Lizzy, who loved having a place this far inland where she actually could have a decent swim, finally convinced me and then I was hooked. Both of us are early risers and since most other citizens don't attend until the evening, the Spym became our quiet place to build up a sweat and ready ourselves for the challenges of the day.

The next morning dawns and we pass from the elevator through the frescoed entrance to the Spym. Everything is still wonderfully quiet as the attendant hands a towel to Lizzy and me and wishes us a relaxing session.

"Don't get too angry," Lizzy whispers as she gives a quick peck to my lips and immediately heads to the jet pool. She saw that when I picked up my combatives bag upstairs that it would be one of those mornings. I veer to the right into the main gymnasium. It is deserted, just how I like it.

The heavy punching bag in the corner is an old enemy. I drop my gear on the floor, strip down to my tank top and shorts and then slip on my gloves. I steady myself, imagine the bag has come to life and begin to land punch after punch on its cracked, brown leather surface. I exhale with every strike. The blows become a channel through which my inner anxiety reaches the surface.

_Bam, Bam, Bam_, the strikes grow harder and faster. My mind drifts back to the conversation that I had the previous night with Venus:

My sister arrives almost half an hour late. However, this is not surprising considering that punctuality has never been one of her strong suits. I open the door and she immediately pushes pass me and straight toward the dining room. She is followed by her two body guards.

"Why don't you wait outside, guys?" They nod and quietly exit the room. "How're you doing, V?" I ask as if I didn't already know the answer. My sister is barely ten years older than me, but her long brown hair is already streaked with gray. I walk over to where she has sat down and hand her a glass of wine which I know is her favorite.

"If I had wanted to stay imprisoned with you, Ares, I would have chosen to stay in the Capitol rather than have you drag me back here."

"This place isn't a prison any more than your hideaway in the woods, and I didn't drag you back here, V. You know it was necessary for your safety. After Juno disappeared we knew we didn't have a choice."

"Then you could have at least made it a little more civilized than having a team of armed men show up at the door in the middle of the night. I was sure that my time had finally come."

"Well, if you had a phone installed in your cabin like I had asked you last year than we could have done things a little differently," I say not hiding my exasperation.

"So I can have people calling me whenever they want, breaking into my concentration to serve their purposes? You know that the security service would just tap it anyway." I love her but she frustrates the hell out of me. "I think we were very accommodating considering they even let you gather up your clay and tools before flying you back." Venus is actually an incredibly talented sculptor. A few of her works even have made it into museums around Panem…under pseudonyms, of course.

"Accommodating," she spits out under her breath. "That's all this country has ever been to us, hasn't it? They accommodated us by letting us live. They accommodated us by letting us disappear into the wilderness for the remainder of our short and pathetic lives. Well, now someone else is accommodating us by finally putting an end to our suffering. I just wish they would get it over with already. Death can't possibly be this unpleasant."

This last comment sends me over the edge. I grab the wine glass from her hand and throw it with all my might into the living room wall. Lizzy runs in from the kitchen, and Venus's bodyguards crash in through the front door.

"We're fine!" I scream as I wave for them to go back outside. Lizzy grabs my outstretched arm.

"Ares, don't you think that's enough?" she hisses at me. Lizzy hates it when I lose control.

"No, I don't think so," I say to Lizzy before turning back to my sister. "I think you know exactly how unpleasant death is, Venus, considering that's all the entertainment we had as children. Surely, you must remember how unpleasant it must have been for the tributes from the districts to get ripped apart by furry mutant squirrels, die in clouds of poisonous fog, or be burned alive by flowing lava?"

"You know that's not what I meant…" Venus tries to defend herself but I cut her off.

"Are you sure? Because that sounds a lot like Grandpa Snow's old line of thinking. The lives of the District Folk are so meaningless and pathetic that I might as well spend my time looking for ways to humiliate and torture them!"

"You bastard!" Venus shrieks back at me.

"Ares, that's enough!" Lizzy shouts at me. The world comes back into focus as I calm down a little.

"I'm sorry. But we're Snows," I say as quietly as I can. "If we ever hope to rejoin this country on equal terms we have to stop thinking that we can somehow justify the death of innocent people. Even if it's our own…"

What Venus says next just hurts even though I secretly believe she is right.

"But we're not innocent, are we, Ares?"

Lizzy's fish-head stew was eaten in silence. Then Venus went home. I can't even have a pleasant meal with my sister anymore. The world just keeps pushing in.

As I continue to punish the bag, both for the sins of others and my own. I am conscious that I am now drenched in sweat. My cotton tank top sticks to my skin and rivers are flowing down in front of my eyes but I do not stop; not yet. I end every punching bag session the same way.

I stare directly at the bag in front of me. I begin to picture a face forming on the surface of the brown leather. I've only seen this face in pictures, but it reminds me of my own and I am disgusted by it. The only things I do not recognize are the surgically enhanced puffy lips and the eyes…the snake-like eyes that must be more demon than man. The rest of his body takes shape on the bag; a white suit with a rose tucked into the lapel. Finally, a handkerchief tinged red with blood tucked into pocket.

My blows fall harder and harder. I strike at the body first, then to the face. I try to imagine what it would be like to feel the bones crunching under my knuckles; to see blood pour from his mouth and nose. Finally, it is time to land the death blow. I rear back, rocking all my weight onto my back foot. Then, in a flash I explode forward, landing every single ounce of power into a one inch square in the center of that evil face. The bag flies backward and the face is gone. I am alone again.

I wipe the sweat from my head with my towel as I walk toward the jet pool. Its entire heated surface is obscured by frothing bubbles hiding the bottom from view. I simply drop my bag at the edge, remove my shoes, and then dip my feet under the water. I look at my communicuff. This usually takes a while. She likes to play.

Fifteen, then twenty seconds pass.

"You're not scaring me," I yell loud enough so that it can be heard under the water. Thirty seconds pass and still nothing. Finally, just shy of a minute, I've had enough.

"Lizzy!" I yell. Then, a head of sopping wet red hair breaks through the bubble screen.

"I didn't even scare you a little bit?" Lizzy asks.

"I swear you must be part fish."

"Maybe I am. Who knows what the Capitol's scientists have done to the Odair's DNA over the generations?" I know she is joking but the realization that it is entirely within the realm of possibility that she might be right momentarily horrifies me. I push the thought of having children with scales and gills out of mind. "Did you get out what you needed to get out?" she asks hopefully.

"For the most part. I guess I just feel so powerless from this whole situation. Like I have no control over anything anymore."

"You know you owe a Venus an apology?"

"Yeah, I know. I keep forgetting that she's spent the last 16 years in a one room log cabin alone with her thoughts."

"More importantly she hasn't found anyone to help her focus on what really matters."

"I guess I'm lucky in that regard," I say messing up Lizzy's hair even more. She rapidly paddles ten feet back into the pool.

"I think you just need a good swim to sort things out. Always works for me, and I don't have to worry about bruised and bleeding knuckles."

"I'm not from District 4, and I'm not part fish."

"Well, if you're scared of water, I understand." Lizzy already realizes this isn't the case but knows exactly how to push my buttons.

"C'mon, I'm all sweaty."

"So am I."

"Fine," I say stripping off my tank top and pushing off the ledge into the bubbles. The effect of the warm, swirling water on my sore muscles is immediate. She swims over and wraps me up in her arms and legs. I have to tread water for the both of us.

"See, isn't this nice."

"Yeeesss," I say not wanting to be too agreeable.

We spend the next half hour chasing each other around the pool, diving above and below the water laughing and splashing like two small children blissfully ignorant of a harsh and unforgiving world. I don't even want to think of what my life would be like if I had decided to skip the lecture of Elizabeth Odair that one day six years ago. Would I be as lost as my sister is now? Totally jaded by life and actually looking forward to the possibility of an early death? Could that be even called life?

Suddenly, my communicuff starts beeping on my wrist. It's 0700.

"I've got to go," I say looking into Lizzy's eyes.

"I know. Go," Lizzy say nodding toward the edge of the pool. I swim back to my things and hoist myself out of the water.

"Are you going to stay?" I ask as I towel off.

"Just a few more minutes, not quite ready to get out of the water yet."

"Alright, just don't grow flippers while you're in there!" I say turning and walking toward the men's locker room.

"Oh, you be quiet!" Lizzy yells after me giggling. "Just be sure you don't take too long in the shower yourself! You know how she can't stand it when you're late."

Lizzy is right, of course. The President of Panem hates to be kept waiting.


	5. The Hunted Chapter 4

I stand on the subway platform of the commuter station as the train rushes past. The blast of air hits me as the brakes screech and the cars come to a lumbering halt. I push my way toward the opening doors with the rest of the crowd and squeeze aboard. The doors close, the conductor makes an unintelligible announcement over the loudspeaker, and the train once again speeds on in its journey toward the Government District.

I look down to check that my uniform was not affected by the jostling of those around me, an obsession of mine at this point, but the work I've done to earn the right to wear it makes it this way. Once again, however, the name tag is noticeably absent. Even here, in the heart of the Capitol, I feel it is not safe to reveal who I really am. I glance over to a younger woman who looks up to me and smiles respectfully which reinforces my decision. All these people see is a servant of the nation, not the descendant of the one who enslaved it. I smile back and nod.

Stop after stop and the commuters begin to filter out of the doors as their destinations are reached. My stop comes last, Capitol Center. A few other uniforms of various services exit the train with me and head towards the escalators. As the moving stairs bring us back into brilliant sunlight from the depths below, I reach for my beret, fit it to my head, and begin the five block walk to the Ministry of Defense. It is a massive stone and marble behemoth constructed decades ago to serve as the official headquarters of the Peacekeepers, but since the Revolution, thousands of free souls from all over Panem now call it their place of work. Its façade is decorated with idyllic scenes of peace of tranquility from the Twelve Districts (13 has still yet to be added, a fact often maligned by that district's representatives in the legislature). Previously, these scenes were more ironic than anything else. Everyone knew that the so called "Peacekeepers" were nothing of the sort, but now there is a real belief that the work being done inside is actually for the good of the country rather than for its continued subservience.

I walk up fifty marble steps, through the massive bronze doors that guard the entrance, and into the cathedral sized front lobby. Sunlight streams in from the skylights and glints off the black marble floor. In the very center, lies a ten foot wide, by ten foot long, by ten foot tall white marble pedestal. It is empty now and kept that way on purpose. Until the fall of the Capitol, that pedestal housed a fifty foot tall statue of my grandfather. The victorious rebels pulled it down, hauled it down the front steps, and proceeded to smash it to pieces in the square below. The remains are currently on permanent display in Freedom Park a few blocks away. They have become a popular tourist destination for the newly emancipated District Folk with means to travel to the once off-limits Capitol. I can't imagine how many people across Panem now have a picture of themselves standing in front of President Snow's eternally stoic yet cracked face in their family photo album.

I approach the bank of ten elevators in the rear of the lobby. A security guard stops me and holds out a small black box. I mindlessly flash my communicuff across its surface. A flashing green holographic picture of my face appears floating in mid-air a few inches above it.

"Good morning, Colonel. Have a nice a day," the guard says before waving me past.

"You too," I say as I walk toward the elevator.

I press a button, the doors open and I enter the car. It is only after I am safely alone and heading downward into the underground labyrinth that I feel it is safe. I reach into my pocket, pull out my nametag and affix it to my shirt. I can only be myself down here, away from the prying eyes of the public.

I arrive at Sub-basement 10 and the elevator lets me out into a sterile white hallway. At the far end is a set of silver doors simply marked "Central Briefing." Another guard and another check of my communicuff and I am inside a dimly lit circular room two hundred feet across. Banks of computer monitors surround the edges of the space and are all attended by a small army of technicians and analysts pouring over reports from all over the world. Since mankind's past wars have destroyed the global satellite network that once dominated world communications, it is now up to teams of highly trained intelligence specialists to receive briefs from our various networks and spies we have stationed across the planet, decipher them, and compile them into meaningful data. It is a slow, laborious process, but we have no alternative.

A massive holographic globe is projected into the center of the room fifteen feet over a wooden conference table. Despite having seating for twenty-five, only four places are set. This is the usual for briefings as the table is only full during national emergencies. An analyst hands me a print-out of the daily briefs before taking her place at the table. There are a few minutes till the President arrives, so I sit down next to her to see if anything significant has occurred since the last briefing. Nothing, no changes.

I curse under my breath as I realize that any mention of the Sixteen has once again been omitted. My view is that this chain of events is indeed a threat to national security simply because whoever is doing this has the capability to travel across Panem in total secrecy, target civilians whose identities are supposed to be a closely guarded State secret, and disappear again without leaving behind any evidence. My view is not shared. Except for myself, the Sixteen are seen as a painful reminder of a past that is best left forgotten.

The doors open, and in walk two figures. A large, muscular man in a uniform not dissimilar from my own and a short, graying woman dressed in a very demure navy blue suit. The first is General Wade Sturm, Chief of the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces. He was a young rebel leader from District 2 during the Revolution, significant considering that District's particular loyalty to the Capitol. Since so many of his family actually sided with the Regime, he has a particular personal hatred of anything associated with it, especially me. If he had his way, I'd probably be spending the rest of my life suffering in the newly re-opened graphite mines of District 13, as far away from the seat of government as possible. The woman is President Driva Holmes, a true rarity among career politicians because despite her no-nonsense groomed exterior, she actually makes a fairly good impression of being a decent human being. Originally from District 6, she was not directly involved in the fighting of the Revolution, but was instrumental in building a stable government afterward. She was that District's first representative in the legislature after the war and soon earned enough respect from her compatriots to be nominated to the office of President.

The two take their seats at the table across from me. Sturm gives his usual malicious glare indicating that he is ready the briefing. President Holmes shuffles through some notes of her own before saying:

"Alright, what's going on in the world that affects Panem today?"

I begin. "Tensions are still high across the East Asian Frontier," I say as the analyst next to me rotates the holographic globe to the appropriate angle. "Pirates associated with the Nippon Shogunate are beginning to raid commerce vessels with more impunity as they attempt to negotiate the Kuomingtang straights to reach the mainland. Though there have been no overt military actions as of yet, opening up trade with the east could become more dangerous."

The President asks a few pointed questions about whether or not our naval force has reached a sufficient level to combat the increased pirate threat. I simply respond with the same facts that we have presented for the past two years as international trade has become an increased priority. She makes a few scribbles on the notepad in front of her and we move on.

"The Trans-European Commonwealth has recently launched another offensive against the rebel stronghold of Britannia, but again the rebel's strategic use of anti-aircraft defenses has stopped any real forward momentum that TEC forces were hoping to build…"

After the global war which devastated the planet almost three centuries ago, the entire face of the earth changed. Over half of the world's population was lost to the violence and resulting hunger and disease. Most established governments collapsed into ruin. The natural progression was that the weak became subordinated to the strong. However, there were two distinctly different results. Many countries retreated back toward earlier forms of governance, even into downright tribalism. However, a few countries gathered together into tight centrally controlled oligarchies with varying degrees of limited personal freedom. Panem was one of them, the Trans-European Commonwealth was another. But unlike Panem, which decided to limit the distribution of technological advancements to merely the citizens of its Capitol, The Commonwealth, or TEC for short, forced technology upon its entire population. Every citizen had the best health care, plenty of highly nutritious food grown in underground hydroponic gardens and a sterile living unit in one of dozens of steel cities that soared upwards to the sky. However, this came at a terrible price. The citizens of the TEC also had the most advanced surveillance system ever devised. Any form of dissent or anti-government sentiment was detected and crushed within hours. Over the decades, the populace simply became a race of mindless drones with no hope of liberation or freedom. The few brave souls that resisted this punishing onslaught, fortified themselves on the island of Britannia and have lived independently, but under constant bombardment for the better part of two centuries. After the Revolution, our agents have started to reach out to the Britannia rebels with little success. Due to our own limitations, we have been unable to provide any sources of real aid and we fear that Britannia may not be able to last more than a few more years at this rate.

I continue my briefing and we come to its conclusion. Both General Sturm and President Holmes seemed satisfied, but I am not.

"Excellent as always, Colonel Snow, keep up the good work," President Holmes says packing up her notes. "I'll have a lot to discuss at this afternoon's meeting of the legislative defense sub-committee." As much as I hate to admit it, General Sturm knows me better than I'd like and sees that I'm about to say something more. He gives me an angry, slow shake of his head, but I pretend not to notice.

"There is one more thing, Madame President," I say resolutely. "I think we need to continue to reexamine the case files of the missing fourteen." General Sturm slams his hand down on the table with a loud bang that makes the analysts sitting at their computers jump. I am unfazed.

"We've been over this, Snow! I realize that this issue has some _personal_ meaning for you (I could swear that by the way he says "personal" he's hoping that I'm the next to disappear) but the UDP can simply not expend any more energy that could be used for other things on this wild goose chase!"

"Sir, it is not a wild goose chase! Whoever is doing this obviously has breached our highest levels of security to find out information on the Sixteen and could easily have acquired other highly sensitive information that could be used to destroy everything we've worked for! I refuse to believe that this person or persons is perfect. There must be something! Something we've missed. If I could just have a few more resources at my disposal we could stop this now…"

"Out of the Question!"

"That's enough, both of you!" President Holmes' voice silences us both. "Colonel Snow, I understand how difficult this must be for you. Your service to the UDP has been of the highest caliber and I wish we could do something more, but I'm afraid that General Sturm is correct. Without clues, we have nothing more to go on. There have been no other signs that any other classified information has been compromised and until that happens, I simply cannot in good conscience dedicate any more resources to this issue than I have already. I have approved the move of your sister to the Capitol and the additional security elements for her and your protection but that is all we can do. Period. Do you understand?"

It is pointless to continue fighting when both of them are against me.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good," she says as she stands up from the table. General Sturm and I also both rise in unison. He flashes me a look that lets me know I will pay dearly for my actions at a later date. Honestly, I don't care. "Also, Colonel Snow, don't forget that you have your monthly armaments briefing with Mr. Ohm at the Special Defense Lab today at precisely 1300. I don't want to get any reports from him that you were late again. He's a very busy man."

"No, Ma'am. I'll be on time."

"Excellent, Good Day to you, Colonel." She and General Sturm exit Central Briefing without any further comment. As I collect my notes, the analyst who's been sitting next to me the whole time flashes an understanding look in my direction.

"Well, at least somebody here cares about us," I think.


	6. The Hunted Chapter 5

The name of Rikard Ohm may never have been remembered if the Capitol had not fallen, but now he has since become a national hero: a symbol of the will to triumph over injustice. Born in District 3, he was a technical genius, groomed from a very young age to lead their factories. Ohm had what the locals there call, "techno sense." It was as if machines could actually speak to him.

Quickly catching the eyes of the Capitol Science Establishment, at age 18 he was moved to Snow's Classified Research Division, a top secret program designed to create the next generation of advanced weaponry for the Peacekeeper force. There was not a single instrument of death that Ohm did not excel at producing. Everything from new forms of machine guns, rockets, vehicles, poison gas, and even biological muttations flowed from his factory hidden beneath the mountains of District 2. Over the next decade, he moved up the rungs of leadership in the Capitol ladder till at last he was the direct munitions advisor to the Council of 10. Fifteen years before the war that would be those tyrants' downfall, there was even talk about adding Ohm himself to the Council until they made a request that not even he could honor.

The Council was completely aware of the existence of District 13 and its nuclear arsenal aimed directly at the Capitol. Not satisfied with mere coexistence, President Snow realized that only 13 could truly threaten his stranglehold on power and wanted the ability to strike the first blow. He ordered Ohm to construct a nuclear missile of unprecedented power that could penetrate thousands of feet below the surface of District 13 and detonate, literally turning the last hold-out of hope in Panem into a glowing crater. Ohm realized that even the best designed missile in the world could still be detected by 13 before it struck, giving just enough time to launch a counterstrike that could and probably would obliterate all life on the continent. In a move that would be categorized as one of the most selfless acts of the modern age, Ohm flatly refused, but with dire consequences.

President Snow decided that if Rikard Ohm would not serve him as his chief weapons designer, he would simply serve him. One evening, a squad of Peacekeepers forced their way into Ohm's Capitol Penthouse, kicked him to his knees, and forced him to watch as they put a single bullet into the heads of his wife and young son. Ohm was then taken to a room deep within Peacekeeper headquarters, strapped to a table, and without anesthesia had his tongue ripped from his mouth. The man who was once widely considered the most influential person to ever come out of the Districts was sentenced to a life of slavery as Snow's personal Avox.

For the next fifteen years, he suffered in silence, doing every menial chore that passed through Snow's deranged mind. He cleaned the presidential apartments, he was forced to lay out Snow's clothes every morning, and at every state dinner banquet, Ohm was required to stand directly behind the President with a bottle of wine and forced to fill Snow's glass while being gawked at by every influential citizen of Panem who had once even called him "friend." Every infraction was met with the harshest of beatings, the worst of humiliation, and the most gruesome of tortures to include being made to watch for hours on end the murder of his family which the Peacemakers had recorded on camera.

It seemed that Ohm's fate was sealed until in an almost ironic twist, the very district that he had saved from destruction rose to liberate him. As rebel soldiers pushed through the front gates of the Presidential Mansion on the day of liberation, they were confronted by a single man standing in the courtyard. His body was worn down from years of pain and his head of auburn hair was thinning and gray, but in his eyes was burning hate.

Just as the rebels raised their guns to shoot, he silently held up his hand and beckoned them to follow him. Ohm led the fighters straight into the mansion, up the central staircase, through the banquet hall and down a long hallway directly to a simple wooden door. Behind it was a green house filled with bush after bush of perfect roses. The scent in the air was overpowering, a scent that burned Ohm's soul to the very core as it was forever associated with his cruel master. With the rebels still behind him, he walked to a closet set into the back wall, opened it, and revealed the last desperate hiding place of Present Coriolanus Snow.

That alone would have been remarkably enough, but Ohm revived his technical genius after the war. Emancipated, but still not able to speak, he set to work and created an invention that would not only give him back his own voice, but the voices of all who had them stolen. He called it "the ReeVox," a fitted collar that could be worn around an Avox's voice box and turn the tiny vibrations in their throats into nearly life-like digital speech. The impact of this was immediate and profound.

With the help of donations, the new government purchased thousands of ReeVoxes and distributed them to the surviving Avox population. Voices that had been silent in some cases for almost fifty years were suddenly heard again. Ohm was hailed as genius and hero to the People. His fortune restored, the Defense Ministry offered him another position: Chief of Special Defense. Given free rein to design military hardware once again, Ohm would create technology, produce it in his newly reopened District 2 factory, and sell it to the UDP at deeply discounted rates in exchange for certain guarantees that the new government would not search elsewhere for weapons development. It was a very tidy arrangement. The UDP was able to re-arm itself with some of the most advanced hardware in the world while Ohm ensured that the government who freed him from slavery would never fall, and make a very handsome profit in the process. This secret deal never sat very well with me. Unfortunately, it was now another one of my duties to meet with Ohm once a month to review and approve his latest inventions before they went into full scale production.

At precisely 1300, I walk through the door of the Special Weapons Lab in the Ministry. It is, in fact, not a lab at all but simply a showroom designed to display the latest and greatest achievements of one man's troubled genius. The worst part of these meetings is that Ohm always insists on conducting them one on one with me.

His back is to me as I walk into the room. The gray-jumpsuited figure topped with the mop of long white hair is unmistakable.

"Good Afternoon, Colonel Snow. Glad to see that you are on time this month," I hear in a high-pitched tone that is neither completely human nor completely machine but somewhere in between. Slowly he turns and I am confronted with a sunken white face and glaring sky-blue eyes. The polished silver Reevox collar around his neck gleams under the halogen lighting of the room. Every time I see him, the thought crosses my mind that he has somehow transcended a barrier and begun to merge with the technology he loves so much.

"Afternoon, Sir," I say trying to sound cordial.

"Please," he says politely back, gesturing to a stainless steel table piled high with equipment. "We have much to see." The fact that I hear words but his mouth remains motionless is still jarring. Though it is no different than the other Avoxes I have known, it is always somehow more disconcerting coming from Ohm.

The first thing that he picks up is a black assault rifle.

"I call it the Mark 17. I designed it primarily for special strike forces that must move quickly with the maximum amount of firepower." He hands me the rifle, I must admit I am impressed.

"It's light," I say reflexively. "Almost too light."

"Yes, it is primarily composed of advanced polymers and a few alloys of my personal creation. I assure you, it exceeds the standards of ruggedness and reliability that you have come to expect from my designs."

"What does it fire?" He reaches down to the table and picks up a gently curved plastic magazine.

"It fires a new six millimeter armor piercing round…also of my design." He gestures to the back corner of the room where a training dummy has been dressed in full body armor. A one- inch thick steel plate is set up three feet directly in front of it. "Please, indulge yourself."

I am very skeptical that this weapon will have any effectiveness at this kind of target, but I have been surprised by Ohm's technology before and humor him. I slap the magazine into the bottom of the rifle, chamber a round with a satisfying click, and take aim.

"Fits comfortably into the shoulder, controls seem very intuitive, I like the sights," I say trying to sound as scientific as possible.

"Just wait till you fire it."

Slowly I squeeze the trigger. I fire off three quick bursts, emptying the entire magazine. There is nothing but the loud thunder of automatic fire and the sharp ping of bullets impacting on steel. Then, the room slowly returns to silence as the echoes bouncing from the sterile walls fade.

I am stunned by the results. Every single one of the thirty rounds has placed a clean hole straight through the steel plate. I circle around behind and take stock of the dummy, or should I say what's left of the dummy. The bullets sheared clean through the body armor and through the rubber torso as well, almost neatly cutting the thing in half.

All I manage to say is, "I'm glad you're on our side."

"I'll take that as you approve of the design?"

"I definitely think it is something we can use."

The next hour is spent reviewing various other destructive devices until we reach the final item, a tiny metal cube that is only a single square inch.

"What is this?" I ask. "Some kind of explosive?"

"No, nothing so crude. I've been examining how to solve the problem of global tracking since the satellite network was destroyed. This device transmits a special wave-form that uses the atmosphere as an amplifier. Simply put, once activated the device sends out a signal that can be located to within a few inches anywhere in the world."

"Our intelligence branch would certainly love to have it. Not to mention it would be very useful in locating pick-up sites and downed pilots."

"My thoughts exactly."

We have come to the end of the show.

"As always, you have been very impressive, Sir."

"I am merely a citizen doing his duty to protect his nation. The same as you." Then, without warning, Ohm hands me the locator. "I thought that you'd might like to keep that."

"Why?"

"I think you know why," he says calmly. I suddenly realize what he's getting at.

"How do you know about the disappearances?" I say trying to hide my shock and anger.

"In order to keep better abreast of the possible threats to Panem, President Holmes and General Sturm make the intelligence briefs available to me. I admit, the disappearance of your fourteen comrades is what gave me the idea for that device in the first place. I think it is only fitting that its first use would be for that cause."

"You want me to give it to Venus. She would be the next one to disappear," I say incredulously as I realize his plan.

"That would be a logical assumption."

"But it's only a locator. They would have to take her for me to find them."

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices in order to accomplish a higher good. As long as you track her movement, you should be able to find her before they are able to harm her, _if_ they are going to harm her. Ideally, you would be able to find the others, rescue them if they are still alive, and catch the culprits responsible."

"By using my own sister as bait!" I am sure that his heart must be more machine than man now as well.

"What alternative do you have? Holmes and Sturm will not help you. The choice is yours." I flinch as I realize that he is right. Slowly, I reach down and take the locator from his outstretched hand. "Whether you believe it is right now or not is irrelevant. Hopefully, the results will justify your actions."

"You better be right," I say as I slip the device into my pocket. I turn to leave the room and walk back toward the door.

The artificial voice of Ohm has one more thing to say to me as I leave.

"As you look inside yourself now you are probably wondering if this makes you a worse human being for considering this course of action. Remember, Ares, Introspection is a dangerous thing. You might not like what you find." The way he uses my first name makes my skin crawl.

Outside, in the hallway, I am alone with my thoughts. I just cannot bring myself to the realization that I was even thinking about putting my own flesh and blood at risk when suddenly a dark figure appears, grabs my collar, and slams me into the wall.

"Nice to see you too, Sir." It is General Sturm. Obviously, he hasn't forgotten the little incident this morning.

"Shut your filthy mouth and listen close. You go behind my back in a briefing to the President again and I will make it my personal mission in life to see that you never see the light of another day again, understand?" I angrily rip his hands off of me.

"That's a pretty interesting thing to say considering current events, Sir." I say refusing to back down.

"What exactly are you implying, Colonel?"

"I'm merely pointing out that your history seems to point out a possible conflict of interest." He takes a few steps back.

"Just how well do you think you know me, Snow?"

'Well enough."

"Do you," he says with a sarcastic chuckle. "Did it ever occur to you think why I joined the Rebellion?" I pause as he turns away.

"I've never told this to anyone before, and I have no idea why I'm saying this to you now. Maybe so that someone else will remember her when I'm gone.

I had a sister once. Her name was Lucia, and all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I even trained to be a Career in the Games so that if she was ever reaped I could take her place in the arena. When the war started, she had a job as a clerk in the Nut. One night, my father found a pile of documents hidden under her bed. She had stolen them with the hope that she could pass them to the rebels and shorten the violence. He turned her into the Peacemakers, our own father turned her in! When they arrived at our home that evening, they took her out to the backyard and shot her like a dog. Let me assure you, I would _never_ in this lifetime put someone else through the experience of losing a sister, no matter how I felt personally."

"Then give me the resources I need to find who is responsible for this, Sir!"

"You know I can't do that. I meant what I said up there earlier."

"Then we're as good as dead."

"We're all as good as dead, Snow. It's just a matter of how we choose to go out." Sturm walks away and disappears down the corridor.

It is at that moment I know what I must do.


	7. The Hunted Chapter 6

As I feel the elevator car slow down as it approaches the lobby, I reach up to my nametag and pull it off, placing it gently in my pocket next to Ohm's small metal cube. My fingers run over its smooth cold surface once again as I consider his advice for the hundredth time. As the doors open, I walk toward the outside, lost in a train of thought that alternates between confusion and anger. The startling revelation about General Sturm's long dead sibling casts a whole new light on him. Was he always as he was, brutish and stubborn? Or perhaps was he a kind and gentle soul, driven to aggression not because of some character flaw, but the excruciating torment of losing someone so dear to him. Could that same personality shift happen to me if Venus were ripped away? Would I even last long enough against this hidden enemy afterwards to notice? My sister still lives and breathes, but the tighter I try to hold on to her, the more I feel like she is slipping away. Will I be the one to seal her fate? Am I willing to possibly sacrifice her if it means saving myself? Is revenge on those who caused this worth a price that very well be my soul? I think I'm starting to understand what Ohm's cryptic words on introspection meant. As I walk past the empty pedestal, I cannot help but think I may be starting down a predestined path that will one day make me just like the figure that once stood upon it.

The sun is barely beginning to drop behind the western mountains as I exit the Ministry. Slowly, I make my way down the steps and mindlessly move toward the subway station. "Conflicted" does not even begin to describe my feelings however I know that Ohm's locator may be the only way even if it means losing the very person I want to protect.

The escalator is packed with bodies, oblivious to the world around them as they jabber on, voices echoing off the tile walls. My train is late, which is not unusual during the rush hour, but today I find it particularly irritating because it means that I will have to suffer without Lizzy's kind and wise words a few minutes longer.

When I finally arrive home, I can hear Lizzy in the bedroom speaking on the videophone.

"Listen, I understand what you're saying but you need to realize that it's not Ares' fault."

"How can it not be his fault? He keeps putting you in these situations. Over and over again he's taking risks that he can't afford to. Like it or not, his name has a reputation that has made a lot of enemies and I don't want him dragging you down with him," says a voice on the other end that I recognize immediately.

"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better," I mutter under frustrated breath. I throw my satchel on the floor, strip off my uniform jacket, and head to the refrigerator for a drink.

"What do you mean 'drag me down with him' are you implying that he's somehow holding me here in the Capitol against my will," she says trying to hide her irritation.

"Of course not," the other voice continues. "It's just that I've never understood what you see in him…"

"Don't start that again. Ares is a loving, wonderful man who's always done his best to be kind to you and the rest of the family. They've accepted him as one of their own, why can't you?"

"Because I spent every day of my childhood suffering as I watched my mother retreat inside her mind fighting a pain I could nothing about because of what that man did to our family."

"Ares didn't do anything! Annie's torment was because of something done almost ten years before he was even born!" I rub my eyes in the kitchen just wishing she didn't love me so much. I hate hearing her have to defend me when sometimes I don't even want to defend myself.

There is a long pause. "I'm sorry, Lizzy. I know you're right. It's just I can't look at Ares and not help but think how much better our lives could have been if there had never been any Snows in the world."

"In case you haven't realized it yet, I'm a Snow now too, Finnie."

"Maybe on paper, but your heart is pure Odair. Just consider my offer, ok?" There is silence for a few seconds. "Ok?" he asks again more forcefully.

"Alright, I'll consider it," Lizzy fires back exasperatingly.

"It's just because I love you so much, Lizzy. You're like the big sister that I nev…" he pauses, "I mean _could_ ever have." His last comment hits me like a punch to the stomach.

"I love you too, Finnie." There is a click as the line disconnects. I sit perfectly still in the kitchen leaning against the countertop. Lizzy finally enters from the bedroom. "Hey baby," she says in a surprised tone as she realizes my presence. "I didn't hear you come in." A worried look suddenly crosses her face. "How much did you hear?" I take another sip from my bottle.

"How is Finnick doing these days?"

Finnick Odair Jr., Lizzy's loving, if not always supportive cousin, and child of Annie and Finnick Odair Sr. The two were inseparable growing up together. He often leaned on her for support considering he never knew his father and his mother was often unreachable in her far off dazed fugues. However, after she went away to the Capitol to study at the University, fell in love with, and got engaged to a man named Snow, he very nearly disowned her. For years after we got married, I heard about the fight the two of them had. Once, one of Lizzy's brothers even told me that the fight was so loud that he could hear it at his house two full blocks away. Seeing her son and adopted daughter lash out at each other with such harsh and spiteful words over Lizzy's love for a Snow, member of the clan that robbed her of both her innocence and one true Love, put Annie into such a deep depression that Lizzy had to stay in District 4 for two months to nurse her back to health. Finnick Jr. took to the seas in his fishing boat and was not home for almost four months. This ended up being a blessing in disguise (for me at least) because it allowed a chance for the Odairs to meet me without risking Finnick's wrath. After Lizzy had brought her Aunt back to the land of the living, she convinced me to come to District 4, formally introduce myself and ask for her blessing.

I was able to show Annie just how much I did indeed love her niece, and that I was not an inhuman beast. That was when she and the rest of the Odairs came around to me. Unfortunately, Finnick Jr. never did and never has since. When we were married in District 4 six months after his return, he was not in attendance.

"He is doing fine," Lizzy manages to say a little defensively.

"Still probably not going to make the guest list for his Liberation Day Barbecue this year, am I?" Lizzy manages a laugh. She crosses toward me and wraps me up in her embrace. As I kiss her lips, I am overcome by her love, beauty, and the smell of the sea.

"I just love you so much," I say trying not to lose it. I honestly cannot believe that somehow I convinced this woman, so already in love with people who were victimized by the name "Snow," to fall in love with me and take that hated epithet as her own. It confounds every piece of logic in my being, but maybe that's what hope for the future is: love flying in the face of logic.

"You're my world; my whole world," she replies gazing right into me. My heart falls in my chest as I realize that despite all my efforts I may not be a part of it much longer. "Don't worry about Finnick. He's just worried about you," Lizzy says. I can immediately tell she is lying.

"Right," I respond sarcastically. "I know how much he hates me. The conversation in there was a pretty good hint"

"Ares, please give him some credit. He was very civil to you at Annie's funeral."

"If by civil you mean didn't say a single word to me the whole time. When Annie told me it was now my job to protect you instead of him, I thought he was going to leap across the room right then and there and strangle me."

"He cares about you more than you think. Seriously, with the disappearances in the last year, he's concerned about what might happen to you."

"You told him about the disappearances!" I find myself shouting as I step back from her. "Elizabeth Odair Snow, _no one_ outside of the Ministry is supposed to have any knowledge of those. Hell, no one outside of the Ministry is supposed to have any knowledge of the Sixteen in the first place!"

"Well, you've done a great job keeping that secret yourself, Ares!" she fires back, her eyes showing she will give no ground. I know I've crossed the line and look down to the floor shamefully. I feel Lizzy drawing close again. She slowly lifts my chin till our eyes meet again.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's getting into me lately."

"I understand Ares. Believe me, I do. The strain of seeing those you grew up with just vanish into thin air, the knowledge that Venus or you could be next must be crushing. But you have to understand this too: he's my family as much as you are." I can tell she says the next thing without thinking. "With Annie gone, I'll need him more than ever if something were to happen to…" she stops herself abruptly, hoping I won't finish her words, but I do.

"…if something were to happen to me." It is now Lizzy's turn to look down shamefully and my turn to lift her eyes back to mine. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I don't know what's going to happen tonight or tomorrow, or even the day after. All I know is that I want to live in this moment with you right here." I see a look of contentment creep across her face.

"What was the offer that Finnick wanted you to consider?" I ask. Lizzy pauses awkwardly.

"He…he wants me to come and stay with him in District 4. He thinks it's too dangerous for me in the Capitol right now."

"I think you should consider his offer as well."

"You want to send me away? Right when we need each other the most?" she says angrily.

"Not at all. The thought of sending you away kills me, but not as much as proving Finnick correct in his fears if something does happen to you. It's hard enough for me to face him as it is."

"_Nothing_ will ever happen to me as long as I have you right at my side. I'm sure of it because I know that you will protect me just like you protect Venus." Ohm's plan suddenly pushes back into my consciousness and I pull back from her again. "What's wrong?" I take a few steps backward, pull the metal cube from my pocket, and place it on the counter in front of her. "What is that?" she asks nervously.

"It could be a way to ensure that you and I live a long and happy life together, but it could also come with a terrible price." I make sure that my demeanor lets her know that I am deadly serious. "I have a plan, but I won't do anything without your permission."

"For God's sake, why do you need my permission?" She actually appears to be frightened now.

"Because Finnick is right about one thing: I am still a Snow, and I need you, with your Odair's heart, to be my conscience."


	8. The Hunted Chapter 7

The next evening, I make the slow walk down the dimly lit hallway toward Venus' apartment door. Two more bodyguards wait outside. They snap to attention when they see me approach.

"Relax, relax," I say quietly, not wanting to be heard inside the apartment. "How is she? Anything significant?"

"Negative, Sir. She hasn't left the place all day. Whenever we try to check on her, she just yells at us to leave her alone."

"Roger, Thank You," I say swiping my thumb across the lock and slowly opening the door.

As I step inside and close the door behind me, I see Venus sitting in the living room. Her back is to me as she sits on a stool in front of a wooden table. Her hair is tied in a sloppy bun behind her head and a stained white apron is tied behind her neck. Her hands are covered with wet, red clay and though I cannot see what they are working on, it seems methodical and focused.

I take a few steps toward her before she raises her right index finger motioning for me to wait. I look into the kitchen to see that it is as untouched as it was the last time I was here.

"They say you haven't left the apartment all day."

"Maybe if they hadn't been so busy spying on me for you all day that would have seen that I had work to do." She says without moving her gaze from her project.

"They're not spying for me, Venus. They're just making sure that you're still safe."

"Those are the same thing to me," she mutters angrily. "You know what the hardest part of the last twenty years has been for me, little brother? Knowing that even when I'm totally by myself, off in my cabin and trying to shut out this miserable place we're forced to live in, I'm never really alone. Every move I make is probably tracked by some thermal camera on a high flying drone, or by some sensitive microphone hidden in the trees outside my window."

"You could have chosen to stay like me."

"Then I'd have been watched even more closely…like you are, little brother." She still hasn't turned to look at me.

"You're probably right, V." I turn back and look at the kitchen again. "Have you at least eaten something today?"

"Of course, not. I haven't signed up for my tesserae like you have."

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem so anxious to stay in this world that you've never actually wondered if it is worth staying in. So, you let the government do with you as they please in exchange for a few meager scraps of sustenance, which in your case is just enough tolerance to make you doubt who you really are."

"Venus, you're not making any sense. You have to eat something."

"And why is that, Ares?"

"To keep you alive!"

"'Man shall not live by bread alone'" I remember hearing that somewhere and found it very fitting considering the name of our great nation. However, for us Snows especially, I think a more fitting phrase is 'Man shall not continue to live _for_ bread alone.'"

"I still don't understand, V."

"There, finished," she says with an abrupt sense of contentment. She pushes herself away from the table and proudly displays what she has been working on. It is a Mockingjay, rendered in stunning clay detail, but it is chained to the branch it sits upon. She looks at me, trying to find the expected sense of outrage in my eyes, but there is only sadness and confusion.

"You're scaring me, Venus. Really, you are."

"All I want to do is be free, Ares. I want to soar through blue skies and sing at the top of my lungs, but it will never happen, because as I long as I am here I will never be Venus, I will only be _Venus Snow_. The only reason they decided not to kill us when we were children is that by doing so they would become too much like _us_, bloodthirsty, callous, and pitiless.

"Venus, that was _not _us."

"Are you sure? You forget, little brother, that I was old enough to watch the Games sitting on Grandpa's knee in the Presidential Mansion, but those were not the traumatic reruns that were forced upon us later to drive us insane. That was a grandfather showing his granddaughter what he was capable of, and with his commentary, I learned to love the Hunger Games as he did. I marveled at the spectacle, followed the tributes, cheered for the favorites, and reveled in the carnage just like him. I _wanted_ those District peons to die for my entertainment. Then, after the Rebels won, I spent five years being tormented by the realization that I was, in fact, a sadistic psychopath for letting those thoughts enter my brain. Youth and innocence protected you, Dear Ares, you were the youngest of us all, and therefore had the least sins to repent for. Why do you think you were the only one who chose to stay in the Capitol? I'll tell you why. It's because you were the only one who could stay in that place. It was lost to the rest of us forever.

Therefore, I am tired of living for Panem's desire to keep us alive so that they don't have to dirty their hands by finishing the job themselves. Rather, they simply have to sit idly by while someone else does it for them. Do you understand now? I am tired of living for _Panem_ alone."

Suddenly, what she is saying makes sense to me, but I wish it didn't.

"So how do I break the Mockingjay's chains?" I ask.

"You can start by getting rid of these prison guards you have watching me and let me go home."

"I can't protect you there, Venus."

"Ares, I never asked for your protection."

"Then, think about it this way: I can't make sure you'll be safe there."

"Exactly"

"So, you want them to take you?"

"If it means that somebody feels that justice has finally been served, so be it."

"You understand they'll probably kill you, Venus?" I look at her for a reaction to this statement, but there is none. "You understand that, don't you? You understand what that will do to me? You're my sister!"

"Ares, no matter what happens to me, dead or alive, I'll always be your sister and I will always love you. Now, I just ask you show that same love back to me." I turn away because I don't want her to see the tears forming in my eyes but it is no use. Venus stands, crosses to me and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

My thoughts drift back to what Lizzy told me last night. When I asked for her permission, her response was so simple, direct, and perfect I may never have thought of it:

"Why don't you ask Venus what she wants?" Well, now it seems I have my answer.

I reach into my pocket, pull out Ohm's cube, and place it into Venus' hands.

"Just promise me that you will always keep this with you. Hide it and make sure it goes wherever you go."

"What is this?" Venus asks sarcastically, "another one of the Capitol's spy devices?"

"No, this one is mine. It's so that if you are taken, I can find those responsible."

"What if I don't want you to find them? What if I want you to go back to your loving wife and have a long and happy life?"

"Because I'm the last of the 16, and I don't think they'll give me that option. If it comes down to it, I want to meet them on my own terms." Venus closes her hands around the cube and gives a subtle nod. It is now my turn to give her a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, V. I'll make sure they'll be here in the morning to take you back to District 7." At that, I turn towards the door and leave knowing it will probably be the last time I ever see my sister alive.

The next few weeks pass in agony. I have trouble sleeping, my nights passing in alternating bouts of insomnia and vicious dreams of an adult Venus being ripped to pieces in an arena while a child version of herself laughs in contentment. Even Lizzy's sagely advice seems to do nothing to ease my pain. I rarely accompany her to the Spym anymore.

Everyone at the Ministry has even started to notice how much this seems to be weighing on me. At first, President Holmes couldn't understand why I would send Venus away without any protection, but soon she realized that it wasn't my decision. Even Sturm seems to soften to my plight. I'm not sure if he is feeling actual pity for me or if this situation reminds him of his own loss. Perhaps it doesn't matter either way.

Holmes excuses me from most of my additional duties. Thankfully, that also includes the monthly meeting with Ohm. Apparently, this annoyed him greatly, but I don't think I could face that man secretly knowing that it was him who put this plan in motion with his damn cube. I keep the receiver for it in my pocket at all times. Every few minutes, I obsessively check its screen to ensure that the signal never leaves Venus' cabin in the woods of District 7, and it never does.

When I am not staring into space, I am training: marksmanship, endurance, physical fitness, even infiltration. I still don't know what I will face when the time comes and have to be ready for anything.

One evening, I arrive home as usual. I go through my routine, grab a drink from the refrigerator, but instead of finding Lizzy's arms I have taken to staring out the large window in the dining room. As the sun sets, sending sparkling rays off the top of the Capitol's skyline, my mind is lost in thought. I can sense Lizzy's presence, occasionally glancing up to check on me as she prepares dinner in the kitchen, but she knows me well enough not to bother me while I am like this.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP," _I receive a message on my communicuff. Not an unusual occurrence, so I don't bother checking it right away. Finally when I press the button on my wrist to display it, only a single sentence appears:

"_The first Snow has fallen."_ I rip the cube's receiver out of my pocket and am immediately gripped by panic. Without even thinking to say goodbye to Lizzy, I grab my jacket and run out of the door. I sprint down the hall to the elevator and select the roof. There is no time to go to the Ministry. I am already on my communicuff, ordering them to send a hovercraft that I have prepped with all the equipment that I think I will need. However, I now fear all of it will be unnecessary.

Five minutes later, the craft appears above my building, lowers its ladder, and then I am frozen in a column of energy as I am pulled aboard. I run straight for the cockpit.

"What coordinates, Sir?" The pilot asks. I give him the location of Venus' cabin in District 7. The flight will take two hours, and they are the longest two hours of my life. Even as Lizzy frantically tries to reach me on my communicuff, I ignore her calls. I can't tell her anything until I am sure, but repeated checks of the locator's receiver seems to confirm my worst instincts.

I order the pilot to make a combat approach, flying at full speed toward the cabin and dropping me off fifty feet from the front door. I hit the ground with a rifle in my hands and run toward the cabin. There is not a single light or sound coming from inside. Without stopping, I kick the door from its hinges, run inside and click on the tactical light mounted to my rifle. Frantically, I scan from room to room.

"Venus! Venus! Are you here?" I know that there will not be an answer. I reach her sculpting studio. The white beam from my rifle scans the room until it stops on the table. A wet mound of clay that still bears the marks of Venus' hands rests in the center. Directly in front of it, there is a single object. The locator is still here, but my sister has vanished.


	9. The Hunted Chapter 8

The analyst's eyes betray her sadness as she breaks the news to me.

"Sir, Special Defense has completed the analysis of your communicuff…" I lean back in my chair and bury my face in my hands.

"Let me guess. Nothing."

"We ran a full pattern analysis twice and couldn't find any trace of source code, pathway identification, or any kind of base address. The message just contained one piece of data, _"The first Snow has fallen." _Everything else was just not there. I don't even understand how it's possible."

I sit in Central Briefing with President Holmes, General Sturm, and Rikard Ohm. The three of them stare at me as if they are watching this unfold as part of some television program.

"They haven't made a mistake yet," I say. "Why even hope that they would make one now?" the disdain dripping from my words.

"What about the legacy surveillance that was already in place at the cabin?" President Holmes asks the analyst.

"Madam President, both legacy high altitude surveillance and the audio acquisition network was functioning perfectly. We had clear observation of Miss Snow until 1755 hours the night of her disappearance when suddenly every single sensor and back-up sensor experienced a simultaneous system failure."

"Shouldn't that have triggered an automatic alarm here at the Operations Center?" General Sturm asks. This peaks my attention considering he is actually sounding concerned. I hope that it is for Venus and not for simply for the viability of his security net.

"Yes, Sir," the analyst hesitates for a second. "Well, normally it would, Sir, but the alert system was also briefly disabled. However, there was no sign of unauthorized access."

I slam my fist onto the table causing everyone to jump.

"Dammit, of course there was no sign of unauthorized entry! There was never any sign of unauthorized entry for the fourteen previous abductions. Why the hell would there be one for the fifteenth! We have to stop acting like we're dealing with a normal threat. Whoever is doing this is smarter than we are! They are two steps ahead of every move we make and we have to start thinking and not just reacting!"

"Please, Colonel Snow," President Holmes interjects. "I realize how upsetting this must be to you, but maintain your military bearing. I need your experience _thinking_ for us rather than your anger yelling at us." I manage to straighten up and at least appear to pull myself together.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. You're right."

"No apologies are necessary. Mr. Ohm, the reason I've asked you here is for your analysis on the technical threat to the UDP networks." I can't help but glare at him. The thought that Venus would still be safe if it wasn't for his plan has never exited my mind. His eyes catch mine but betray no emotion. His artificial voice begins to speak while his frozen lips still remain perpetually motionless.

"It is obvious that the perpetrators of these disappearances have a high level of knowledge of the Ministry Defense Network. It contains all the data they would need to organize these operations including access to disabling the appropriate security protocols."

"So, you're saying it's an inside job?" General Sturm spits out at him.

"Unlikely," Ohm continues. Every time a Ministry employee accesses the network, their personal identification code and physical location are logged in a separate encrypted database which has not been tampered with. The only way that I can see these particular operational security violations are possible is that someone is entering from outside of the network by manipulating the data stream itself. This is extraordinary in and of itself because the data stream uses a triband encryption matrix with a 10 millisecond refresh rate. "

"English please," I say to Ohm becoming increasingly upset at his nonchalant attitude considering that this realization has the potential to bring down the entire country. "Some of us in here are just dumb grunts."

"In _layman's_ terms, Colonel Snow, the database access codes have over two billion possible combinations and the correct code changes one hundred times every second."

"Could it be the TEC?" says President Holmes.

"Unlikely," Ohm continues in his passive tones. "The TEC uses a binary carrier wave on their data transmissions that is very distinctive, especially over long distances. Our external defense nodes would have picked up their transmissions almost instantly.

My thinking is that it could be a sleeper: an old veteran of the Revolution that has a particular grudge against the descendants of their previous overlords."

"That's half the damn country, Man." Sturm mumbles.

"Actually, not when you examine the facts, General," Ohm continues. "The Defense Network is a remnant of the one designed for the Peacekeeper forces near the end of the Snow regime. We simply just re-encrypted it."

"So, what you're saying is 'It's the same door, you just changed the locks,'" I grumble.

"One could use that analogy, yes."

"So, I guess the question we should be asking right now is 'Who are the people who re-encrypted the network?'"

"I think that you are finally starting to use the little bit of logic you seem to have, Colonel," Ohm says as a crooked grin creeps across his face. I continue to glare.

"I imagine it's not a very long list, then?"

"A little less than a hundred names would have had access to the kind of information required."

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" I yell as I stand up from the table.

"Not so fast, Colonel Snow," President Holmes barks at me. "After consulting with General Sturm, we have both decided that the strain of this chain of events has proven to be too much for you."

"What?"

"You're too damn close to this, Snow. With your emotions this high, you're a liability rather than an asset to this investigation," Sturm says bluntly.

"How much leave do you have built up?" Holmes asks.

"You're turfing me?"

"We're simply asking you to have confidence in us to see this through."

"I supposed to be confident now. I've been screaming about this for the past twelve months and nothing has been done!"

"Watch…your…tone, Colonel. I am still your president whether you like it or not. Leave the Capitol for awhile, spend some time reconnecting with your wife, and we'll see to your protection."

"My protection?" I don't like where this is going.

"You are to have a twenty-four hour a day security escort until further notice under my direct executive order. I can't afford to lose Ares Snow. You're too valuable to us."

I curse so loudly that every set of eyes in the room looks directly at me.

"Venus was my responsibility and now she's gone! You can't expect me just to sit idly by while I put my fate and hers in the hands of a bunch of worthless techno-geeks," I say more than indicating Ohm with a nod of my head. He remains unfazed.

"Look what happened to Venus, Snow. Look what happened when you didn't 'think' like you were supposed to. Trust me, I know how you feel." Sturm says trying to be as inoffensive as possible but his words slice like a razor. I nearly collapse to the floor as my legs feel they are now made of rubber.

"This is not a debate, Ares," the President continues. "My decision is final. Go home _now_. Your escort is already waiting for you upstairs."

Five bodyguards meet me at the elevator. They walk with me as I go to my office, clear out a few personal items, and then take me to a waiting private car. I begin to feel as Venus must have: like a prisoner.

When we arrive at my apartment building, I convince them to leave me at the front door, but I have two guards stationed directly outside at all times, and three more walking around the outside in plain clothes. An unmanned hovercraft circles ten thousand feet above in the sky streaming a constant video feed directly to Central Briefing and the crisis room at the Presidential Mansion. In less than 48 hours, I've lost my sister, my freedom, and now my dignity. Venus was right: maybe I am now living for Panem's sake alone.

I swipe into my apartment, and find Lizzy waiting for me in the living room.

"President Holmes called me directly this afternoon and told me about the new arrangement…"

I drop everything I am carrying directly to the floor and stumble to the corner across from her. There is silence for a few seconds.

Without warning, I punch at the drywall as hard as I can. My fist goes through it like tissue paper. Tears are streaming down my face and I hear angry, painful screaming ringing in my ears. Eventually, I realize it is coming from me.

"Ares!" Lizzy yells running over before grabbing my shoulder. I collapse to the ground in the fetal position. Lizzy's warm embrace soon wraps around my quivering body and she rocks me back and forth like a child in its mother's arms. "It's ok. It's ok, just let it out."

"She's dead, Lizzy. I can feel it in my heart. She's dead! And it's all because of me…"

"No, Ares. No, it was her choice. You can't blame yourself for that."

"Then who? Who do I blame?"

"Blame the people who did this, Ares." She gently wipes the tears from my face and softly kisses my lips. It's like an immediate tranquilizer. "Let the anger go. It will destroy you…and our security deposit."

Both of us burst out laughing, but soon I turn sullen again.

"My entire adult life, I've been the warrior: the one with the answers. The one that everyone counted on to face the enemy head on and take care of them…"

"And you will be again."

"Are you sure about that?"

"As sure as I am that I love you, but right now you have to have faith that the right people are in place to figure this out."

"And while I just sit here gathering dust like a relic, what am I supposed to do?"

"You're on administrative leave aren't you? Let's get the hell out of here, just the two of us."

"Where would we go?"

"Back home. Finnick's offer is still open."

"Really? Me dealing with Finnick right now?"

"Ok, if you don't want to deal with him, I can still get us a wonderful little cottage by the sea. Think of it, Ares. A little fire burning on the stone hearth, the smell of steaming lobster caught fresh that morning coming from the kitchen. You and me bundled up on the porch watching the sun go down as the rays dance off the surf, the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand…"

Suddenly, I realize that is exactly what I need.

"That cottage does sound pretty nice, I have to admit."

"Just give me a few days to make the arrangements. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"A few days, what am I supposed to do until then?"

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Something, I've really been neglecting." Slowly, I take her hand and stand us up. Our lips meet again and I press Lizzy gently into the wall. Her arms softly massage my back as the rest of the world just seems to melt away into her embrace.

My hands find the base of her sweater and I pull it over her head, our lips only parting for the briefest of moments. Her skin flushes and its warmth becomes even more intoxicating. I can't stop and she doesn't want me to. I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. As we drop together onto the covers, my fingertips slowly run up and down her chest and she trembles with anticipation. True happiness rushes back into my heart. I can think of nothing else but the bond that connects us. How that bond has been tested, tried, but never has failed. This is the only woman in the world that my entire existence depends on.

"As long as I have you, nothing else really matters," I gently whisper into her ear. She whispers back, "And you will have me until my dying breath."


	10. The Hunted Chapter 9

The next few days pass in relative peace. Lizzy requested and was granted a leave of absence from the University. When we are not reconnecting with each other, she is busy talking with relatives or making travel arrangements. Apparently, the cottage by the sea belonged to her grandparents and has been in the Odair family for decades before the first Hunger Games. After her grandparents passed away, the cottage has been rotated through the various children and grandchildren as a secret getaway spot. Annie apparently spent much of her convalescence there over the years.

The night before our departure, Lizzy and I sit on our couch in front of a smoldering fire. There is an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of us.

"So, tell me about the first time you ever went to this cottage by the sea," I ask trying to keep our mind on happy times. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.

"I remember when I was ten years old and first met Aunt Annie. My parents let me spend the summer there with her and Finnick. Sometimes, she was just lost somewhere. I could tell that her mind was active, but it was like it was out of her body. Finnick never missed a beat, so I guess he must have been used to it. Without even disturbing her, he would go out in his little boat in the morning and bring us catch of fresh fish by the afternoon. I would stay with Annie and just talk to her. Most of the time, it was like I wasn't even there, but sometimes she would just become so clear and lucid. Those times were when we made our connection.

She would talk for hours about her childhood, meeting Finnick Sr., their wedding in District 13 during the war, even what is was like to carry Finnick Jr. inside of her knowing he would never meet his father.

Finally, with only a week before I had to go home, I got her to talk about what it was like for her in the arena: what is was like to hear your name called at the Reaping, saying goodbye to everyone you know thinking it will probably be the last time you ever see them, being wisked off to the Capitol that until then existed only on a television screen, being wheeled out on a chariot in some crazy costume that made you more like an object to the screaming crowds than a person so that it would be easier for them to watch you die. I was only a few years younger than she was then. I just kept asking myself as she was talking, could I do what she did?

Annie said the interviews were the worst thing for her: to be forced to talk about your deepest fears in front of millions. She said that Caesar Flickerman even asked her, 'What would be your most embarrassing way to go in the arena?' Can you imagine being asked that knowing that they could make it a reality?"

"I remember seeing that when we were forced to watch that year's interviews. She said that she couldn't bear the thought of being forced to 'beg for her life.' No, I can't imagine anything like that. It would be like having your dignity slaughtered as well as your life."

"Apparently, the Gamemakers tried to engineer a romance between her and one of the Careers because she was so timid they were afraid that she wouldn't be 'compelling enough' when she finally was killed."

"His name was Kurt Goldner, a beast from from District 1. It was ridiculous because he was almost twice her size."

"How do you remember all that?"

"It wasn't an option for me not to."

Lizzy just sighs.

"That was the year when I decided to become a psychologist. I knew I had to find out what was going on in her tormented mind and how to bring her back…I also wanted to answer another, maybe even tougher question. How could our parents have tolerated doing this to their children?"

"I bet it was because by pretending to support it somehow it made it seem like they were more like the Capitol spectators and less like someone who was being forced to participate."

"Maybe."

"What was it like for her during the competition?"

"Do you know when you're having a nightmare and your worst fears are always in your thoughts like they're about to come true? She said it was like that, but at the same time knowing that you couldn't wake up safe in your bed. Annie just kept running and hiding until eventually she was the only one left. Then, the hovercraft appeared out of nowhere, and it was over."

"But it wasn't…It was never over." I hesitate, not sure if I should ask a question that has been burning in my mind ever since we met, but determine now is as good a time as any. "Did she ever say anything Pompey Eckhart, the Agricultural Councilor?"

"Not until I was much older," Lizzy said shocked. "She swore me to secrecy, said I couldn't even tell you. How do you know about that?"

"His son, Commodus, was a friend of mine growing up. On one of the few nights they left us to ourselves, we were talking about our parents. He said his father was a pedophile. I don't even know how you ever come to terms with something like that. Apparently, he would pay Snow tens of thousands if it met that he could be a female victor's first. Commodus said that even when he was four years old, he can remember his father leaving on what he said was "official business," but his mother always knew what he was doing. She would just stay up all night and cry until he came back the next morning.

I was never sure if Annie was one of them, but now I know, and it is probably another crime that Commodus had to pay for with his blood." Lizzy starts crying and I pull her close.

"When did he disappear?" Lizzy finally manages to ask.

"Last November while he was working in a mill in District 8. He said he liked it up there because it was as far away from District 11 as he could get and no one would recognize him."

"Ares, how will our country move on from something like this?"

"One day everyone who ever witnessed a Hunger Games will be gone. We have to teach our children so that their children and their children's children don't ever walk down the same path as our parent's did."

"But what about us? How do we move on?"

"One day at a time, I suppose."

The next morning, the sun rose on our day of escape. The train was not scheduled to leave until 1300, so Lizzy and I decided on one last trip to the Spym so we could feel refreshed for the journey. The two bodyguards follow us into the elevator and down to the basement. Lizzy hides her discomfort so well, but I realize that she needs some space.

"You want to schedule a massage for later?" I ask trying to stay upbeat.

"Sure, I'll go talk to the attendant at the desk." After she leaves, I turn to the bodyguards.

"Look, fellas, there is only one entrance in and out of here. Can you just humor me this once and just stay outside."

"Roger, Sir," the senior one says understandingly. "If you need anything, just beep us on your communicuff."

"Relax, ok? I'll only be a hundred feet away."

I go inside and see Lizzy still talking to the attendant about the massage.

"The rest of the staff doesn't get here until 9 o'clock. It's just me until then."

"Is that alright with you, honey?" Lizzy asks.

"Sure, fine with me. We'll have plenty of time to make it to the station." We kiss one last time before she heads to the jet pool. The workout room is blissfully empty again. I stare back to my old nemesis, the heavy bag, in the corner but decide that today I will focus on something besides my anger. I turn the television mounted on the wall to the morning news, complete a circuit of weights, and then finish up with a brisk half an hour run on the treadmill. My mind drifts to the other fourteen and to Venus, hoping against all hope that we'll soon be reunited with each other and I manage to maintain some sense of optimism that Sturm and Holmes will deliver on their promise of solving the mystery for me. Now, my only mission is to stay out of trouble and be there for Lizzy.

After drenching myself in sweat, I grab my towel and head to meet my wife. I'm actually looking forward to a swim today. The jet pool is deserted except for Lizzy's towel hanging from the wall. Once again she has disappeared under the bubbles. I take off my shoes and socks and dangle my feet in the water as usual.

"Lizzy!" I yell. No response as always. Half a minute goes by. "C'mon, girl you gotta breathe sometime, you're not all fish yet." Another half a minute. "You're really pushing me today, Liz." _Another half minute_. I realize she has never held her breath this long before. Without thinking, I jump into the pool to look below the bubbles. I frantically search under water, but there is no one.

I explode from the pool and run toward the front desk without toweling off, leaving a trail of water behind me.

"Maybe she just went to the locker room," I keep repeating to myself over and over trying to rationalize my fears away. The attendant sits at her chair with her back to me. "Excuse me, ma'am." The attendant ignores me. "Excuse me," I repeat louder." Still she still ignores me. I'm growing angry now. "I said, Excuse…" I reach out and grab her shoulder. The attendant falls to the ground, motionless. I lunge forward and roll her over. A tiny dart is sticks out of the front of her neck. She has been poisoned. "Lizzy! I scream running back towards the woman's locker room. I burst inside, but it is deserted. I frantically check the rest of the Spym's rooms as the panic reaches its zenith, but the place is completely empty. My wife is gone.

"Alert!" I scream into my communicuff. "We have a full alert! Elizabeth Snow has been abducted! I need a full response team scrambled immediately and I want a car waiting to take me to Central Briefing upstairs in 60 seconds!" I receive confirmation from the security detail walking the perimeter of the building, but nothing from the two directly outside the Spym.

I throw open the front doors where I find the two of them both lying in pools of blood, each killed by a single bullet to the head: the mark of a professional. I scan the surroundings for any clue to whom might have done this when something lying on the floor catches my eye. It is a silver photo album, placed carefully a few feet away from the bodies. Somebody put it here to be found. I am afraid of what might be in it, but I must know. My hands shake as I reach down and pick it up. I just stare at the cover trying to gather the courage to open it. Finally, with all the strength I can muster, I throw open the cover.

They are all there Lydia, Tiberius, Commodus, Calpurnia, Juno, and the rest in the order that they disappeared. Each is vividly captured in the precise pose of their death. Lydia is crushed under a boulder; Tiberius has a hole a foot across blown through his chest. Commodus lies at the bottom of a cliff, bashed against the rocks. Juno has two bullet holes through her skull, so on and so forth. Finally, all that is left is to turn to page fifteen. Turning that page is like lifting a thousand pound weight, but it finally moves. Then, I see her: my beautiful sister. She is leaning against the base of a tree. If it weren't for the knife blade sticking from her chest, you would think she was taking a peaceful nap in the late afternoon sun. I swear I can even see the hint of smile on her pale face. Tears fall from my eyes and slam against the page. I can't breathe and my heart feels like it will beat out of my chest.

On the page next to Venus' picture, is a set of numerical grid coordinates with a single typed paragraph:

_Come alone. We will know if you are being tracked or followed. You have forty-eight hours or your wife dies for you._


	11. The Hunted Chapter 10

I crash through the door of Central Briefing, zipping my black combat fatigues up my chest.

"Ops Officer, I want a long range hovercraft prepped in the central hanger and ready to fly in exactly 30 minutes. Give me a full tactical load of weapons and ammo aboard. Enough food, water, and fuel for a four day extended operation. I also need a level 3 trauma kit as well; I don't know what kind of injuries I'll be facing when I hit the ground."

"Any preference on the pilot, Sir?" He asks.

"Roger that: _me_. I'm flying alone."

"Understood," he says running out toward the hanger bays.

I turn my attention toward my partner: the analyst who always accompanies me in my briefings, the one person in this room who always seemed to care. Somehow, when I felt I needed someone I could trust, her face popped into my head. I sent her a holofile of the silver album on the car ride over here.

"Alright, Amelia, tell me what you could find out." She freezes for a second as if she's amazed that I know her first name. "C'mon, Amelia, talk to me. We're burning time."

"Of course, Sir, she says coming to her senses. She enters a few keystrokes on the control panel, spinning the holographic globe to the Pacific Ocean. A flashing red dot indicates a location in open water over two thousand miles west of the coast of District 1. Amelia begins her brief, "The coordinates in the note to you are indicated above."

"What's the nearest land mass?"

"The Hawaiian Atoll."

"Well, they're not there," I say. Amelia nods in agreement. The island chain known as "Hawaii" was once considered a prime tourist getaway for the Capitol Elite before the Dark Days. Unfortunately, during the construction of the arena for the second Hunger Games, a botched attempt by a Gamemaker Construction team to make the ancient volcano, Kilauea, erupt on command created a chain reaction that buried the entire island chain under three feet of molten lava. The air turned to a toxic mixture of sulfur and carbon dioxide that would kill a person in minutes. The Capitol wanted to prevent word of the embarrassing gaff to spread back to mainland Panem, so they installed a naval and air blockade while the fires raged. The entire remaining population of the islands, over 300,000 people, perished.

"What's the nearest _habitable_ land mass?" I continue.

"Midway Atoll," but there are thousands of tiny uninhabited islands spread over an area of ocean that could swallow Panem whole ten times over. They could be anywhere."

"Great."

"I completed a further analysis of the photos in the album. The flora does indicate that the location is somewhere in the Central Pacific Basin: climate consistent with tropical rainforest growing on top of volcanic basalt."

"What else. Give me something I can use."

"I did find something interesting in the photographs of the victims themselves." She punches the control again bringing up the fifteen photographs together. "Look at their left wrists." Amelia's right. I can't believe I missed it. Attached to every single one of the fifteen's arms is a black metal "tracelet," standard issue for prisoners detained in the UDP so that their movements can be tracked in the event of escape. "What I don't understand is how every single one of them could have escaped from captivity…" Amelia thinks out loud.

"They didn't escape," I interrupt as it all becomes clear to me. "The island is a damn game preserve."

"What?"

"This whole thing: It's a canned hunt."

"Sir, what's a canned hunt?" Amelia asks inquisitively.

"Back when the Capitol elite were in control, it was a fashionable way to relax by going on safari and bag rare and exotic animals, not for food but just for sport. However, most were too lazy to actually track an animal the old fashioned way over large distances so they started what was called "canned hunting." The animals would be raised in captivity and then released into a large, fenced-in area with a tracking device. That meant that all the hunter had to do was follow an arrow on a receiver until the animal was cornered and just finish the job however they saw fit. Those photos aren't some kind of warning to me, they're _trophies_."

"Oh my God," Amelia says covering her mouth with her hands.

"This isn't just revenge. Don't you see, the sixteen are the most rare and dangerous game of them all: the last remaining descendants of the _Maneaters of Panem_. But we were all raised in captivity so we're safe." I jump up from the table. "I've got to get to that hovercraft."

"The hell you do!" a voice booms from behind me. President Holmes and General Sturm have joined us. "The last time I checked, the only person who can authorize an overseas military operation according to the UDP Constitution is the President and that happens to be me."

"How much did you hear?" I ask her.

"Enough to listen to your outlandish theory and think that the pressure has finally caused one of my top officers to completely lose his mind!"

"Do you have a better theory, Madam President?" I reply not backing down.

"Regardless, I seem to remember ordering you to stand down from this case and let us take care of it."

"I think that the circumstances have changed on that front!" I yell back at her.

"Sit down, Colonel!" she commands as she and the general move to the table.

"Captain Flagg," President Holmes asks Amelia. "Does your analysis lend any credence to Colonel Snow's theory?"

"With all due respect, Ma'am," Amelia replies, "I've analyzed all the facts and Colonel Snow's theory is the only one that makes any sense to me right now."

"What about Special Defense? Have you shared any of this information with Mr. Ohm?"

"No, Ma'am. He is currently in District 2 overseeing a refit of his munitions factory."

"Forget that creepy troll!" I burst out. "He's nothing but a crackpot who's only made things worse from the start!"

"That's enough from you, Snow! Mr. Ohm has always provided me with the most consistent, impartial guidance of anyone in the country and is a national treasure that _you_ have always seemed to undervalue. I could have you sedated and thrown in a holding cell right now for violating my orders. The only reason I haven't had you carried out of Central Briefing yet is the respect I have for your years of service. Captain Flagg, send your reports to Mr. Ohm immediately for his review. In the mean time, General Sturm, assemble a strike team of our best operators. We'll go to those coordinates and take care of this threat once and for all."

"That message said explicitly that I was to go alone and they can tell if I'm being tracked! If you do that, you're sentencing Lizzy to death! Our best operatives weren't able to protect her here. What makes you think they'll be able to when they're playing on the enemy's terms?"

"That's enough from you, Snow. Security, get him out of here and into a holding cell…"

"Madam President, wait…" Sturm says in the calmest voice I have ever heard him use. "Let him go."

"What?" President Holmes and I exclaim simultaneously in astonished voices.

"You told us that the reason that Colonel Snow required the security detail in the first place was that he was so valuable to this country. What value does he have to us if he's trapped in a prison cell? If anything, it just makes him an easier target for an enemy that has proven to be better than us at every single turn. He's right. Any transmission from this building or attempt to send a tactical strike team would no doubt be discovered and Mrs. Snow would probably be dead before they even took flight.

I didn't speak up when his sister disappeared because I was worried that my personal feelings were clouding my judgment just like his were, but now it's clear that personal feelings are what it's going to take to bring these bastards down. Every moment we waste pretending that's not the case is another one closer to defeat."

At that moment, General Sturm was reborn in my eyes. He was no longer a bitter relic, but a wise leader. Holmes is speechless. After a few moments considering this massive turn of events, she finally speaks.

"Just tell me one thing, Ares Snow. If I send you across the planet, by yourself, into a completely unknown environment fraught with the worst possible dangers that have already taken fifteen other lives and are about to take a sixteenth, can you possibly succeed?

"Madame President, It's what I was born for."

"Very well," she says standing up from the table. "Be at the Central Hangar in one hour. Everything you requested will be waiting for you then." All I can do to acknowledge her act is give a simple, but firm nod of appreciation. She walks toward the doors and General Sturm follows. As he passes me, his hand finds my shoulder and gives a supportive squeeze. Suddenly, I blurt out:

"Why are doing this? I thought you hated me, Sir." He leans over and whispers so that only I can hear.

"It's not for you. It's so that Lucia can finally rest in peace." He follows the president out. Then, it's just me and analyst Amelia.

"I just realized something," I say to her. "In all the time we've been working together, I don't think I've ever really thanked you. I think you might be the most decent person in this crazy place." Captain Amelia Flagg smiles back and walks over to me.

"Just be sure you come back to us, Sir." She leans over and gives me a quick peck on my cheek.

From Central Briefing, I walk straight to the armory. Very shortly, blood will flow: either mine or theirs. Meticulously, I strap on my equipment: armor, pistols, grenades, knives, extra magazines. Finally, when the time comes, I walk into the hangar carrying my helmet in one hand and my rifle in the other. I was expecting some kind of huge crowd to be waiting at the hovercraft. Instead, there is only one.

"Come to say goodbye, Madam President?" I ask flippantly.

"You always were a pain, Ares, but you were always sincere and I respect that."

"Well, Driva (I can tell the use of her first name perturbs her a bit), I always loved that same quality in you."

"Do you really think you'll be able to use all that stuff?" she asks pointing to my equipment.  
>"Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it."<p>

"You're not worried about the kind of impression that will give to them?"

"The impression I give them will be the least of my worries. I have no intention of negotiating. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm expected elsewhere." I push past her and up the ramp of the hovercraft.

"Colonel Snow," she yells. I turn around as she throws an object into my arms. As soon as I catch it, I know exactly what it is: one of Ohm's cubes.

"Did he give you this to plant on me?"

"Yes, after Venus disappeared he said that I should emplace it as insurance against your loss."

"Then why didn't you? That would be the logical course of action."

"Because it seemed like something that you wouldn't want me to do."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Maybe there's hope for us both, Snow," is her only reply. I laugh as I throw the cube back down to her.

"Well, you were correct. If you haven't heard from me in three days, well….thank you for everything you have done for me, Ma'am." I turn again for the hovercraft.

"Snow!" Holmes shouts. I turn back. _"May the odds be ever…"_ I sharply raise my hand.

"That's quite unnecessary, Ma'am."

"Well, how about this then? Good Luck, Ares."

"And to you." I turn back for the last time and head for the cockpit. As President Holmes watches, I raise the ramp, power up the engines, and fly out towards the setting western sun.


	12. The Hunted Chapter 11

Night finally envelops the hovercraft as I fly ten thousand feet over the coast of District 1. There is nothing out ahead of me except for black ocean and the unknown of what I am about to face. I input the coordinates from the message into the autopilot computer and lean back in my chair. My mind wanders back to my childhood, growing up with the others in what our mentors euphemistically called the "Rehabilitation and Reeducation" or "R &R" center. Most children look forward to growing up for the little things: getting a driver's license, being able to have their first cigarette, finally move out of their parent's home. I suppose we were not that different, but what we looked forward to the most was simply becoming free. As the oldest among us finally hit seventeen, and invariably chose to leave, the rest of us would celebrate with them, but then soon feel the emptiness of losing one more of our small family. Lydia, who was already sixteen when the Rebels took over, was the first to leave. Antonius was the next to go a year later. I was still a baby really so I never knew them that well. It was the fourth to depart that was the worst for me…

Suddenly, I am seven years old again and curled up on my bunk in the "R &R" barracks. It is well after lights out, and the darkness surrounds me. Tears stream down my face and moisten the scratchy green wool blanket I am lying on. I have been crying because today is her birthday. I know what she will choose because it is what all of them have chosen. How could she leave me? She said she loved me, didn't she? Doesn't she know that once she goes away, she won't be able to talk to me or come visit me anymore? Doesn't she know that she will leave me all alone in this scary place with the scary people…and the scary pictures they make us watch? It is a child's logic, but it is as real to me as any. It is _still_ real to me.

She tiptoes out of the darkness and kneels next to me. I don't want to talk. I'm too angry to talk. I roll over to my other side and stare at the concrete block wall.

"Go away, Venus," I pout. "You know you're not supposed to be in here. You're just gonna get me in trouble." She gently rubs my back trying to calm me down.

"It's ok. They said I could come and say goodbye, little brother."

"Well, you've said it. Now go away!"

"Ares, what's wrong?" I still stare into the wall.

"You know."

"No, I don't. I thought that you would be happy."

"Happy that you're going away? That you're gonna leave me by myself forever?"

"Not forever, little brother. We'll see each other again really soon." Even at that age, I could tell she was lying. I roll back over and look her in the eyes.

"Where will you go?"

"I wanna go to someplace I've never seen before," she says trying to sound optimistic. "I wanna go to the forest where I can wake up in the morning and hear the birds singing in the trees and smell the pine on the breeze. I wanna be where things are alive, and aren't just made from metal and cement. But most of all, I wanna go where I can make things instead of just watch other people destroy each other." The happy picture she paints for me with her soothing voice calms me down a little.

"Can I come visit you there?" I sniffle through my last remaining tears.

"One day, little brother. One day." I reach up and wrap my little arms around her neck.

"I love you, Sissy. Don't ever forget about me." She laughs as she hugs me back.

"I'll always love you, Ares, and I could never forget about you."

That was the only time, for the briefest of moments, I ever considered leaving the Capitol behind when I was old enough, but as Venus disappeared back into the darkness that night, I knew in my heart that she was embarking on a journey that I could never follow on. She just wanted to live for herself, but I couldn't do that. I wanted to live for the others that I saw die every day.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP_," the autopilot warning rips into my consciousness. I've fallen asleep, but the craft has continued west over the ocean and is now almost to the coordinates. I reposition myself in my seat, trying to bring feeling back into my numb extremities.

I've just finished rubbing my eyes when suddenly the cockpit comes alive around me. Red lights flash, alarms echo from the walls. A computerized female voice announces:

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock."_ Instinctively, I grab the controls and violently lurch the hovercraft to left. Just in time, it seems, because a white trail of smoke streaks across the viewscreen right where my flight path had been. The missile tries to correct itself, but the acceleration is too much and it explodes a few hundred feet away, causing the entire craft to shake as if it is about to fly apart. I click on the rear view screen and see two attack hovercraft bearing down on me in the darkness.

"Ghost Ships_, Great,"_ I think to myself as I realize this enemy is a lot more advanced than even I was willing to believe. A Ghost Ship is a stealth hovercraft, designed specifically to sneak up on an enemy and destroy them before they know it. That's why there was no proximity alarm before they armed their weapons and fired.

I begin to maneuver my hovercraft wildly, trying to break the death grip they have on my flight path.

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock," _the computer chimes in again. I click the mute button immediately. That's just too disconcerting to hear right now. Another white smoke trail appears from the second Ghost Ship. I slam the controls violently again, this time bringing my hovercraft into full inverted flight. The missile passes so close this time that I swear if there was no glass in the viewscreen, I would be able to reach out and touch it. Another explosion: this time I'm not so lucky. The shockwave causes several control panels to blow out it my face. I feel the controls grow sluggish in my hands as my stabilizer fails and I bring the hovercraft back around into level flight to avoid a stall. I am now a sitting duck.

I look at the rear view screen again and see the Ghost Ships have closed the distance. They are now right on top of me.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I defiantly say out loud. They must have heard me. I see the first Ghost Ship fire another missile. The white streak screams directly at me and finds its mark.

The blast of the explosion is so fierce, I nearly black out. The rest of my controls fail and I smell the harsh scent of burning wiring and scorched rubber. My entire hovercraft spins out of control. Out of the darkness, I see the ocean below growing closer and closer. The ejection system has failed; looks like I'm on board for the duration.

The phrase, _"Not how I expected to go out,"_ crosses my mind as I brace for the imminent impact. The ocean continues to rush at me until finally I meet its surface. My body slams into my harness straps and I feel the viewscreen shatter in my face. I raise my arms to shield my body from the thousands of bits of Plexiglas as they fly around me. A surge of freezing water envelops everything as my flying machine becomes a submarine, pulling me down towards the depths of the Pacific…

What happens next is more like a dream than reality. I have the sensation of floating, I cannot breathe, and I think I'm drowning. A large shape appears in blackness above me, then a bright white light. I am weightless as the light draws me toward it. Human forms tower above me silhouetted against the brilliance. Their masked faces are speaking but I cannot understand their words. Then, there is a sharp prick of pain in my arm and the blackness returns.

I awake on the floor of a black steel cell, a bitter metallic taste lingering in my mouth. I take stock of my surroundings. There is no furniture, not even a bunk; only a faucet, basin, and metal toilet. A dim, yellow light barely illuminates the space. All my equipment has been stripped from me, and I only wear my black t-shirt, fatigue bottoms, and boots. My legs feel like rubber but I manage to raise myself to my feet. My head throbs and my entire body is sore.

"What happened?" I think to myself until I realize, "Oh right, I was in a hovercraft crash and nearly drowned. _Silly me."_ I stumble over to the faucet to splash some cold water on my face, but as I look down to fill my hands with water, I see my wrist. My communicuff is gone; replaced instead by a black tracelet. I reach down too see how secure it is and manage to slide it about two inches in either direction, but it is firmly locked in place. "Seems like I've come to the right place," I mutter. I'm conscious of the fact that every word I say is probably being recorded, but I don't really care. I run the water into my hands, rinse my face, and then try to wash the taste from my mouth. It is only marginally effective. I then realize that I have no idea how long I've been out. It was night when I was blown from the sky, but there is nothing in here to indicate what time of day it is.

I'm guessing about another hour passes. I sit in the corner of the cell, attempting to give my shattered body a chance to heal, when suddenly a trap door in the base of the solid steel cell door opens and a tray of food is shoved inside. The trap door closes again before I get any hint of what…or who…is outside. I climb to my feet once more and stumble over to the tray. There are no utensils, just what appears to be a plate of beans and a slab of dry cornbread.

"But waiter, I ordered the prime rib and mashed potatoes!" I yell towards the ceiling in a nasal voice that I think best mirrors the old Capitolites, but I am answered only by the sound of my ridiculous words echoing off the empty walls. "Can't take a joke it seems…" Still no response. At that moment, I realize I am starving and haven't eaten in what must be over 24 hours. I reach down and pick up the tray. It's not exactly appetizing, and has a real possibility of being poisoned, but I know that without my strength, I'll be no good at facing the challenges that will probably soon await me. Stumbling, back to the corner, I collapse down to the ground and shovel the beans into my mouth using the cornbread. "Not bad, could use a little salt, but my compliments to the chef."

Another hour or so passes in silence. My mind begins to wander again. I think of the other fifteen, the pictures of their gruesome deaths rolling over and over again through my thoughts. I think of Lizzy and home: our last nights together spent wrapped in each other's embrace. I pray that whatever has happened to her that I am not too late. Slowly, I raise my hand to the wall and lay it flat against the cold steel, somehow praying that she is unharmed, directly on the other side. More time passes, more silence, more thoughts I'd prefer not to consider. Finally, I begin to grow angry. I came here for a challenge, not to be locked in a cage like an animal waiting for slaughter. I rise to my feet and stare defiantly into the dim yellow light.

"Well, your prey has arrived! What are you waiting for?" I yell at the top of my lungs. Apparently, this time they were listening.

The cell door unlocks with a rusty thud. The hinges creek as it is thrown open. In walk two guards, dressed in body armor from head to toe. They carry clubs, but have pistols strapped to their hips. Their faces are obscured by a dark visor attached to their helmets. One leans back against the wall with his hand on his gun while the other raises his club and moves toward me.

"You guys here to dance?" I ask sarcastically. I fully expect to receive a billy club strike across my chest, but at the last moment, the guard silently points his club towards the door and motions for me to step outside. "Alright, I guess we're going." Still no words from either of them.

The hallway is long and sterile. Blue lights run across the ceiling, giving the whole place an eerie, unnatural glow. As the guards lead me toward my destination, I try to take note of the layout of this place, but there are absolutely no reference points to remember. How they navigate is beyond me. Finally, we reach another set of doors. One of the guards pulls out a plastic card from his waistband and swipes it in front of a black plate. The lock clicks and the doors open. He motions with his club again for me to step inside.

"Sorry, I forgot my wallet or else I'd be sure to tip, but the service really was excellent…" I am silenced as he strikes his club against the wall with a loud bang. "Temper, temper…"

As the doors slowly close behind me, I finally hear his voice:

"It's alright, make jokes while you can."

"That was ominous," I think to myself before finally noticing what's around me. I am standing in what appears to be a huge pit. There is another set of steel doors directly in front of me. There is a metal, diamond plate stairwell to my left which leads to a second floor. Banks of computer screens and flashing lights encircle the entire room. A few black uniformed operators run from panel to panel making adjustments. Directly above the steel doors is a balcony with what appears to be a giant plastic tube. Inside, a woman in a white, flowing dress fights to stand: swaying back and forth as if she is extremely weak and on the verge of collapsing. Her head hangs, resting on her chest. The first thing I recognize is her hair, her beautiful red hair.

"Lizzy!" I scream as loud as I can. Her head pops up and her eyes grow wide as she recognizes me below.

"Ares!" She screams back down, banging on the plastic casing of the tube. I am about to sprint to the stairwell when I hear her yell, "Don't move! They'll kill you!" The sound of twenty assault rifles cocking behind me causes me to freeze. I slowly turn to see a line of armed guards towering over me on another balcony, their weapons all trained precisely on my skull. I hold my hands out to show that I have no intention of fighting…yet.

"Ok, so we're not moving." I carefully turn back towards Lizzy and see a figure slowly materialize out of the darkness behind her. Finally, after all these months, my question has been answered. "Of course, it's you…" I say as my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I realize that one of the greatest heroes of the Revolution has become a terrorist. "…It could only have been you."


	13. The Hunted Chapter 12

I charge through the brush at full speed, not slowing down for an instant. My lungs burn from the chokingly hot, humid night air, but the adrenaline keeps me moving forward. The huge wet, tropical leaves slap at my face and I jump and twist through the tangle of vines and undergrowth. I can feel the nicks and scratches of thorns and bark digging into my damp skin. The moist air and sweat have already caused the cotton of my t-shirt to glue itself to my body. Again, the adrenaline is my savior.

The loud noise I make doesn't matter. Everyone knows where I am. The hunters are already on my trail, and have spotted their prey. My only chance for survival is to put as much distance between them and me as I possibly can…_ rapidly_.

I cannot see the stars. The tree canopy is too dense. It is pitch black and I run on instinct alone. Who knows what dangers naturally lurk in this rainforest hell…or what manmade dangers could have been placed here as well? Ohm has already mentioned the Hunger Games. If there is one thing I understood from watching those twisted showcases of terror, it is expect the worst because it's usually true. But I don't have time to think about any of that now. My only motivation is too stay alive long enough to form a plan; even if it is ultimately a doomed one.

Suddenly, the silence of the night is pierced by a shrieking whistle I have heard many times before. Without any conscious thought, I fling myself forward and flat onto the wet mud of the forest floor. _KABOOM! _The artillery round explodes a few feet inside the tree canopy, sending deadly jagged shards of metal shrapnel and wooden splinters flying just inches above me. If I had not flattened out, I would be dead. When the shock of the explosion passes, I push to my feet and continue the sprint for life. The whistling returns and I dive for the safety of the ground again. My luck holds out. I am not fooled by this distraction, though. Ohm is a weapons genius and knows I am experienced in combat. Artillery like this is useless in the jungle where the tree cover is so dense it causes the rounds to explode far too above the ground to be really dangerous to those who know how to adapt. No, these are not designed to end the hunt; after all that would be too "unsporting." Obviously, he didn't expect me to move this far this fast, and wants to slow me down so that his hunters, with their heavy body armor and equipment, can finish the job. No doubt, he is looking forward to watching my painful demise live on the intricate network of surveillance devices that he has surely installed all over this island. In fact, he is probably laughing at my soaked, muddy appearance right now as he forces my wife to watch her beloved's end.

"_Lizzy!"_ the heartbreaking image of her sobbing in that aquatic torture device of Ohm's own sick creation fills me rage and keeps the adrenaline flowing enough to force me moving forward, but the delay caused by the artillery has cost me dearly.

"Over there! I'm reading him over there!" I hear the shout faintly through the trees.

"_Damn tracelet…"_ I think to myself. As long as it is manacled to my wrist, I'm a dead man. I won't be able to hide to rest: I'll just have to keep running until my body gives out and the hunters corner me. I think back to my Escape and Resistance training. Tracelets are waterproof and hardened against impact, but they do have a weakness…the epiphany hits my brain like a lightning bolt, too bad I don't have something to produce a…

The whizz of automatic fire slices through the trees and I hear the bullets fly close to me..._way too close_. The hunters are in direct fire range, but my movement combined with the thick foliage means they probably can't get an exact fix: not that it really matters with the firepower they're packing. Back in the pit, when I saw the assault rifles that the guards were carrying, I immediately recognized them as Mark 17s, the prototype that Ohm showed me that day in Special Defense. The haunting image of the perforated steel plate and destroyed target dummy makes me realize that there's not a lot out in this jungle that will save me from those bullets. Another burst of fire cuts through the leaves. I have to get to some kind of protection or I'm done for.

Just as I'm about to lose hope, I see what is my salvation. Over the eons, a creek has cut nearly ten feet deep into the jungle floor as it wound its way to the sea. In this darkness, it may be just enough to hide me and confuse their sensors until daylight when I can get a better grasp of my surroundings. Suddenly, it occurs to me that I don't even know how long daylight will be from now. I guess it doesn't really matter. At the very least, if it doesn't fool them, at least it will make it a little harder to shoot at me. I dive down into the miniature ravine, splash into the water below, and keep running without slowing down. After an agonizing minute of hoping for a miracle, I hear the few voices fading slowly into the blackness behind me.

"The signal is breaking up!"

"What do you mean? He was right here!"

"Keep looking, dammit, he's close." I see them shine bright white search beams through the trees, but thankfully, they're pointing in the wrong direction.

It seems my ruse has at least temporarily worked. I continue running along the creek bed. As fatigue and the cold wetness of sweat and humidity sink into my bones, I try to keep myself focused. Failure, in either direction, is not an option at this point. I refuse to let Ohm win. I have to find a way to escape from this nightmare.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm's words echo through my ears both as motivation and punishment. It was never Lizzy's fault. Her only mistake was falling in love with me. At that instant, I curse Fate for flinging me into such abysmal circumstances. Why did things have to be this way? Life would have been so much simpler if my name had been anything but Snow. Fate answers back with a memory that pops into my head and fills me with such a warm feeling of joy that my tired legs feel fresh and new. I run on.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ I remember the moment when she made that choice:

I awoke from a nightmare, pulse pounding, sheets drench in sweat and tears. She was beside me, still lying in blissful slumber, unaware of the thrashing and tossing next to her. One my first impressions of Elizabeth Odair when she finally began to spend her nights in my company, was how deep a sleeper she was. I swear I could have set off a firecracker next to her, and she wouldn't budge. "Clear Conscious," was the only explanation that I could settle on.

In the dim glow streaming in from the window, I looked down at her angelic, sleeping face and marveled at its lines, its curves, the way her hair fell across her shoulders like the finest silk, the creamy alabaster of her skin as it reflected the moonlight, the subtle movement of her gorgeous breasts as they rose and fell with every peaceful breath. However, the real miracle: the epiphany of that moment was that despite her tremendous physical beauty, it paled in comparison to the amazing beauty of her soul. Her tremendous faith in the inherent goodness of the human spirit, her willingness to put aside preconceived notions of hatred and prejudice and judge every single individual for the generosity and kindness within, but most of all, she did not see me as "Ares Snow, grandson of Coriolanus Snow" like every other person I had ever met: she simply saw me as _Ares_, the man she loved and the man who loved her.

Gently, my hand moved toward that perfect face and my fingers softly caressed her cheek, sweeping a few strands of hair away. She released an unconscious sigh of contentment that immediately put all my anxieties and uncertainties to rest. I knew at that moment that I lived for her and for her alone. As if the universe was guiding my actions, her eyes, her gorgeous green eyes that glistened like the sea after a storm opened and stared directly into mine.

"Hello there," she whispered in the quietest of voices.

"Hey," was my only ineloquent response.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except for the fact that when this moment is over, I'm scared that I'll never be this happy again."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm afraid that if the answer to the question I'm about to ask is "No," you and I will never be the same again."

"Well, that depends on the question, doesn't it?" she says to me with a gentle hint of a smile. I gently stroke her hair again. She sighs once more and I know that she is as content in this perfect place as I am.

"Elizabeth Odair, be my wife." For what seems like an eternity, those green eyes just stare back at me. I worry that my fears will come true, but in one of the few times of my life when I was absolutely sure that I had done the right thing, I hear a single word from her lips.

"Yes."

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm was absolutely correct, but it wasn't because of any kind of moral deficiency or latent evil as he would believe. Quite the opposite, it was because the good was so intense inside her little body that she would choose living in the joy of that one moment forever and risk the fate that confronts us now than to live the rest of her life in the safety of distrust and fear.

Lizzy placed her fate in my love. That is why she wanted me to run and save myself. I am sure of it. She knew that my love would save her as well, and on the price of my soul, I will not betray that. I will find a way.

As the first rays of daylight began to poke over the eastern horizon, I come to the end of the creek bed. The water continues to trickle down a natural, volcanic stone staircase and then disappears into mist over a cliff to the ocean below. My first thought is to break for the cliff and find a way down. Where there is heavy surf breaking on sheer rock wall, caves are sure to form and may be the perfect place to hide and regroup. I charge forward out of the tree line and down toward the edge. Just as I am about to reach it, I freeze as I realize that I am about six inches away from an instant death.

It was the dawn that saved me. If I had come here in darkness, I would have surely suffered an abrupt and ugly end. Just as the first beams of sunlight cause the surface of a pond to glisten, they occasionally cause other things to glisten as well, including a force field that would otherwise be invisible. I reach down and grab a rock from ground to test my theory. Taking a few steps back to a safe distance, I gently toss the stone towards the cliff. As if it was struck by lightning itself, the rock freezes in mid-air with a sickening sizzle and then falls to the ground smoking. It is immediately apparent that this isn't a normal force field, even for Hunger Games standards. The one that Peeta Mellark accidently hit during the third Quarter Quell was mere child's play compared to this thing which would most likely sear the skin from my bones like a blowtorch. The phrase passes back through my head: _"as if it was struck by lightning itself…"_

The wheels in my brain begin turning as I start to formulate a plan, but my contemplation is cut short by voices I hear rapidly approaching from the west.

"Signal's clear as a freakin' bell now."

"He's ours!"

"Come on, hurry!"

I'll have to save my idea for later. The hunters have found me, and there is no running away anymore. It's time to fight.


	14. The Hunted Chapter 13

I charge through the brush at full speed, not slowing down for an instant. My lungs burn from the chokingly hot, humid night air, but the adrenaline keeps me moving forward. The huge wet, tropical leaves slap at my face and I jump and twist through the tangle of vines and undergrowth. I can feel the nicks and scratches of thorns and bark digging into my damp skin. The moist air and sweat have already caused the cotton of my t-shirt to glue itself to my body. Again, the adrenaline is my savior.

The loud noise I make doesn't matter. Everyone knows where I am. The hunters are already on my trail, and have spotted their prey. My only chance for survival is to put as much distance between them and me as I possibly can…_ rapidly_.

I cannot see the stars. The tree canopy is too dense. It is pitch black and I run on instinct alone. Who knows what dangers naturally lurk in this rainforest hell…or what manmade dangers could have been placed here as well? Ohm has already mentioned the Hunger Games. If there is one thing I understood from watching those twisted showcases of terror, it is expect the worst because it's usually true. But I don't have time to think about any of that now. My only motivation is too stay alive long enough to form a plan; even if it is ultimately a doomed one.

Suddenly, the silence of the night is pierced by a shrieking whistle I have heard many times before. Without any conscious thought, I fling myself forward and flat onto the wet mud of the forest floor. _KABOOM! _The artillery round explodes a few feet inside the tree canopy, sending deadly jagged shards of metal shrapnel and wooden splinters flying just inches above me. If I had not flattened out, I would be dead. When the shock of the explosion passes, I push to my feet and continue the sprint for life. The whistling returns and I dive for the safety of the ground again. My luck holds out. I am not fooled by this distraction, though. Ohm is a weapons genius and knows I am experienced in combat. Artillery like this is useless in the jungle where the tree cover is so dense it causes the rounds to explode far too above the ground to be really dangerous to those who know how to adapt. No, these are not designed to end the hunt; after all that would be too "unsporting." Obviously, he didn't expect me to move this far this fast, and wants to slow me down so that his hunters, with their heavy body armor and equipment, can finish the job. No doubt, he is looking forward to watching my painful demise live on the intricate network of surveillance devices that he has surely installed all over this island. In fact, he is probably laughing at my soaked, muddy appearance right now as he forces my wife to watch her beloved's end.

"_Lizzy!"_ the heartbreaking image of her sobbing in that aquatic torture device of Ohm's own sick creation fills me rage and keeps the adrenaline flowing enough to force me moving forward, but the delay caused by the artillery has cost me dearly.

"Over there! I'm reading him over there!" I hear the shout faintly through the trees.

"_Damn tracelet…"_ I think to myself. As long as it is manacled to my wrist, I'm a dead man. I won't be able to hide to rest: I'll just have to keep running until my body gives out and the hunters corner me. I think back to my Escape and Resistance training. Tracelets are waterproof and hardened against impact, but they do have a weakness…the epiphany hits my brain like a lightning bolt, too bad I don't have something to produce a…

The whizz of automatic fire slices through the trees and I hear the bullets fly close to me..._way too close_. The hunters are in direct fire range, but my movement combined with the thick foliage means they probably can't get an exact fix: not that it really matters with the firepower they're packing. Back in the pit, when I saw the assault rifles that the guards were carrying, I immediately recognized them as Mark 17s, the prototype that Ohm showed me that day in Special Defense. The haunting image of the perforated steel plate and destroyed target dummy makes me realize that there's not a lot out in this jungle that will save me from those bullets. Another burst of fire cuts through the leaves. I have to get to some kind of protection or I'm done for.

Just as I'm about to lose hope, I see what is my salvation. Over the eons, a creek has cut nearly ten feet deep into the jungle floor as it wound its way to the sea. In this darkness, it may be just enough to hide me and confuse their sensors until daylight when I can get a better grasp of my surroundings. Suddenly, it occurs to me that I don't even know how long daylight will be from now. I guess it doesn't really matter. At the very least, if it doesn't fool them, at least it will make it a little harder to shoot at me. I dive down into the miniature ravine, splash into the water below, and keep running without slowing down. After an agonizing minute of hoping for a miracle, I hear the few voices fading slowly into the blackness behind me.

"The signal is breaking up!"

"What do you mean? He was right here!"

"Keep looking, dammit, he's close." I see them shine bright white search beams through the trees, but thankfully, they're pointing in the wrong direction.

It seems my ruse has at least temporarily worked. I continue running along the creek bed. As fatigue and the cold wetness of sweat and humidity sink into my bones, I try to keep myself focused. Failure, in either direction, is not an option at this point. I refuse to let Ohm win. I have to find a way to escape from this nightmare.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm's words echo through my ears both as motivation and punishment. It was never Lizzy's fault. Her only mistake was falling in love with me. At that instant, I curse Fate for flinging me into such abysmal circumstances. Why did things have to be this way? Life would have been so much simpler if my name had been anything but Snow. Fate answers back with a memory that pops into my head and fills me with such a warm feeling of joy that my tired legs feel fresh and new. I run on.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ I remember the moment when she made that choice:

I awoke from a nightmare, pulse pounding, sheets drench in sweat and tears. She was beside me, still lying in blissful slumber, unaware of the thrashing and tossing next to her. One my first impressions of Elizabeth Odair when she finally began to spend her nights in my company, was how deep a sleeper she was. I swear I could have set off a firecracker next to her, and she wouldn't budge. "Clear Conscious," was the only explanation that I could settle on.

In the dim glow streaming in from the window, I looked down at her angelic, sleeping face and marveled at its lines, its curves, the way her hair fell across her shoulders like the finest silk, the creamy alabaster of her skin as it reflected the moonlight, the subtle movement of her gorgeous breasts as they rose and fell with every peaceful breath. However, the real miracle: the epiphany of that moment was that despite her tremendous physical beauty, it paled in comparison to the amazing beauty of her soul. Her tremendous faith in the inherent goodness of the human spirit, her willingness to put aside preconceived notions of hatred and prejudice and judge every single individual for the generosity and kindness within, but most of all, she did not see me as "Ares Snow, grandson of Coriolanus Snow" like every other person I had ever met: she simply saw me as _Ares_, the man she loved and the man who loved her.

Gently, my hand moved toward that perfect face and my fingers softly caressed her cheek, sweeping a few strands of hair away. She released an unconscious sigh of contentment that immediately put all my anxieties and uncertainties to rest. I knew at that moment that I lived for her and for her alone. As if the universe was guiding my actions, her eyes, her gorgeous green eyes that glistened like the sea after a storm opened and stared directly into mine.

"Hello there," she whispered in the quietest of voices.

"Hey," was my only ineloquent response.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except for the fact that when this moment is over, I'm scared that I'll never be this happy again."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm afraid that if the answer to the question I'm about to ask is "No," you and I will never be the same again."

"Well, that depends on the question, doesn't it?" she says to me with a gentle hint of a smile. I gently stroke her hair again. She sighs once more and I know that she is as content in this perfect place as I am.

"Elizabeth Odair, be my wife." For what seems like an eternity, those green eyes just stare back at me. I worry that my fears will come true, but in one of the few times of my life when I was absolutely sure that I had done the right thing, I hear a single word from her lips.

"Yes."

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm was absolutely correct, but it wasn't because of any kind of moral deficiency or latent evil as he would believe. Quite the opposite, it was because the good was so intense inside her little body that she would choose living in the joy of that one moment forever and risk the fate that confronts us now than to live the rest of her life in the safety of distrust and fear.

Lizzy placed her fate in my love. That is why she wanted me to run and save myself. I am sure of it. She knew that my love would save her as well, and on the price of my soul, I will not betray that. I will find a way.

As the first rays of daylight began to poke over the eastern horizon, I come to the end of the creek bed. The water continues to trickle down a natural, volcanic stone staircase and then disappears into mist over a cliff to the ocean below. My first thought is to break for the cliff and find a way down. Where there is heavy surf breaking on sheer rock wall, caves are sure to form and may be the perfect place to hide and regroup. I charge forward out of the tree line and down toward the edge. Just as I am about to reach it, I freeze as I realize that I am about six inches away from an instant death.

It was the dawn that saved me. If I had come here in darkness, I would have surely suffered an abrupt and ugly end. Just as the first beams of sunlight cause the surface of a pond to glisten, they occasionally cause other things to glisten as well, including a force field that would otherwise be invisible. I reach down and grab a rock from ground to test my theory. Taking a few steps back to a safe distance, I gently toss the stone towards the cliff. As if it was struck by lightning itself, the rock freezes in mid-air with a sickening sizzle and then falls to the ground smoking. It is immediately apparent that this isn't a normal force field, even for Hunger Games standards. The one that Peeta Mellark accidently hit during the third Quarter Quell was mere child's play compared to this thing which would most likely sear the skin from my bones like a blowtorch. The phrase passes back through my head: _"as if it was struck by lightning itself…"_

The wheels in my brain begin turning as I start to formulate a plan, but my contemplation is cut short by voices I hear rapidly approaching from the west.

"Signal's clear as a freakin' bell now."

"He's ours!"

"Come on, hurry!"

I'll have to save my idea for later. The hunters have found me, and there is no running away anymore. It's time to fight.


	15. The Hunted Chapter 14

If there is one characteristic of great warriors throughout history, it is that they have always been able to find a way to use their surroundings against their enemies. Whether it is two cavemen trying to bash each other with clubs or two attack hovercraft pilots thousands of feet in the air, one thing seems to hold true: the one who can make the other come to them on their own terms will usually triumph despite overwhelming odds and strength. This is what I always loved about Katniss Everdeen. A skill that I have practiced years to develop (not entirely successfully, I might add) always seemed to come to her completely naturally: _make them fight your fight._

Now, as I find myself backed against a lethal wall of energy, in the open and downhill from a mob of killers armed with the latest technology of death, I know that this is certainly _not_ where I want the first showdown to occur. I run north, skirting the force field towards a rock outcropping. It is almost a natural wall that leads from the edge of the cliff back into the forest. As I reach its steep crags, I begin to climb as fast as I can. Just as I reach the top, I look back over my shoulder and see the three hunters break through the tree line. The first takes aim and fires. He is a poor shot and his bullets hit the rocks a few feet to my left. Just as the rest take aim, I dive behind the outcropping and run back uphill towards the jungle. The hunters now have two choices: climb up the outcropping after me with their heavy equipment, or go back into the jungle and find a way around. Either one they make, it still gives me time.

Facing them unarmed would be suicide. Even if I got the jump on them, by the time I finished the first one, the other two would have me dead to rights. No, whatever I do has to be fast and precise. I need something…need something…then I see it, exactly what I am looking for. Just as I suspected, this vein of rock must be an old lava flow that eons ago ran from the volcanoes in the island's center down towards the sea. Lava is a miraculous substance: composed of dozens of different materials heated to thousands of degrees in the depths of the earth. Most of these minerals are rather inert and uninteresting, but every once and awhile, a little bit of sand melts and cools just right to form a magic tool that helped our ancestors survive the stone age: _Obsidian_ or volcanic glass. About a hundred yards inside the trees, a slightly different shade of stone juts out from underneath the rocks. I dash down the side of the outcropping and toward what I hope will be my salvation. I look around trying to find a rock that will serve my purpose. After all, I only have time to try this once. Eventually, I settle on a fist-sized round stone, raise it high over my head and strike down hard at the lava flow. Nothing happens.

I can just begin to hear the hunters in the jungle. Looks like they went with option two and went back into the treeline to find a way around.

"C'mon, you bastard," I mutter angrily. As I raise the rock and slam it down again. Still Nothing. Doubt starts seeping in. Did I not recognize the rock correctly? Am I doing this right? Am I wasting valuable time? I decide to try once more before I bolt and run. This time, all bets are off. I rise to my feet, hold up my cave hammer, and wail down with all my might.

"_CRUNCH!" _ I hear as the rock gives way. It is absolutely perfect. Lying at my feet is a four-inch long sliver of translucent black glass. Along the side which peeled away from the lava flow is a perfect edge, five times sharper than a surgeon's scalpel. I have a weapon, and that may be enough.

I pick up my primitive knife and continue running north into the jungle. The hunters must have found a way around the outcropping because I can hear them growing closer as they hack and slash through the tangle of leaves and vines.

"_Fight on my terms….fight on my terms…" _I repeat the thought over and over again hoping for another useful revelation. Obviously, I have to take them by surprise. Not an easy task considering they can still follow my tracelet's signal. The trees? No, If they spot me up there before I can make my move, I'm a dead man. There must be something else. Rocks, vines, roots, a hole, anything! Panic begins to rise inside me. However, just as I think my string of good luck is finally running out, I spot it: a break in the tree line. A large depression in the ground has filled with stagnant water. The mire is almost black with decaying plant matter, but it is perfect for me. I see some reeds that have grown at the water's edge. I find a thick one, break it off at the base, and try to breathe. Not a lot of air, but enough, considering I must remain completely still.

They are very close now, probably no more than a hundred yards away. I'm amazed they haven't tried to fire at me again, but I figure after the chase I've put them through; they want to be slightly more up close and personal in their final business. I slip beneath the murky putrid mess. The stale smell is awful, like rotting garbage that has been left in the sun for too long, but I don't even think about it, the time to strike is so close, that I must remain completely focused. Four inches beneath the water, and I've already disappeared. My breathing through the reed snorkel is as quiet and light as I can make it without blacking out. I rest my feet gently on the bottom ready to spring my trap. I focus on becoming completely invisible, a part of nature itself that is about to strike those arrogant enough to challenge it.

They plunge through the trees and come into view. I can tell from their panting that they are exhausted, weighed down by their weapons, armor and gear in this heat. The words they say are muffled by the still water, but I can still hear their exasperated anger.

"_You said he would be right here!"_

"_Are you sure you're reading that thing right?"_

Another one pulls out a tracelet receiver.

"_Look, at the indicator!" _The one with the receiver has his back to me, and the others are distracted. The time is now.

I fly from the water like a missile and leap forward, wrapping my arms around the one with his back turned toward me. Everything around me turns to slow motion as I reach up and grab the hunter's chin, exposing his neck before I slash the obsidian blade in my hand across his throat. He falls limp and I feel the warm flow of fresh blood in my hands. I drop my cave knife and use him for a shield as I reach down to his hip and draw his pistol.

The second hunter standing just four feet in front of me freezes in fear. I do not hesitate as I aim and fire. The bullet strikes home, punching a hole straight through his visor, splattering it with brains. Before he even hits the ground, my eyes move to the third and final hunter. He is not as stunned as his counterpart was. I see his assault rifle start to move to his shoulder. I drop my human shield to the ground and jump at a sharp angle as a burst of rounds slices the air where I was just standing. As I fly through the air, I take aim once again with the pistol and fire a snap shot. The bullet glances off his armored helmet, but the shock is enough to send him tumbling to the ground stunned.

As he tries to claw to his feet in the soft mud, I calmly walk over and kick him in the side. He collapses onto his back and my boot's sole finds his throat. He gasps for air, but it is no use. He is now _my_ prey. As the world returns to normal speed, I reach down, unbuckle his chin strap, and toss his helmet aside. He stares up at me with gaping mouth and terrified eyes. I keep the muzzle of my new pistol pointed squarely between them.

"How many more?" I ask without pity or emotion.

"Ppplease," he manages to choke out through the pressure of my boot.

"How _many _more."

"The old man's got an army! At least a hundred more guys, plus all the computer freaks in the compound. That place is harder to crack than "The Nut" was back in the war."

"Are they all as good as you?" I ask sarcastically.

"Better, better, man. Hey, I just do this because of the money. That's it, it's only business. Nothing personal. Really, I swear."

"What about the others you killed? Were they personal to you? Because they were sure personal to me."

"C'mon, please. I have a family!" I can tell from his face he's about to black out.

"So do I." At that moment, my finger squeezes the trigger. A gun shot rings out through the jungle. Then, there is only silence.

For a moment, I look down to where the man's face once was. The adrenaline that has been my salvation since the beginning rapidly fades away and I soon realize that I am shaking like a leaf. Nausea sets in and I vomit the contents of my prison breakfast all over the jungle floor. I have killed before, but never this way. Never this personal and never this close up.

Somehow, my heart prays that this will all be over now. Ohm will realize that he made a terrible mistake, release Lizzy back to me, and let me escape with her as he flees into the sunset, never to be heard from again. My brain, however, is too old to believe in fairy tales. If this hunter was telling the truth, then there is a long way to go before I know what it is like to be safe again. The battle has begun: first blood has been spilled.

Rapidly, I begin the work of stripping everything useful of the bodies of the fallen. Each has a canteen strapped to their waist. I grab the nearest one, raise it to my mouth, and empty it into my dehydrated body without stopping. I grab the ones from the others for later. The second one I killed also had a radio strapped to his vest.

"_Might as well,"_ I think to myself. _"I may even be able to pick up on some enemy chatter." _I hook it securely to my belt and place the earpiece in. The weapons and ammo are also obvious choices. I unclip all their bandoliers, and throw them around my chest. I also keep the pistol, two hand grenades, and a hunting knife. In one of their pockets, I also find a pair of night vision glasses just like the ones Katniss used in the Seventy-Fourth Games. I decide to leave the body armor and helmets. I don't what them slowing me down as much as these jokers and if the Mark 17 lives up to the test that I put it through back at Special Defense, they wouldn't do me much good anyway. Next, I pry the tracelet receiver out of the hands of my human shield and click on the display. My exact location is displayed precisely.

"_If, I'm going to live through this, I've got to do something about this damned tracelet."_ The plan that crossed through my mind earlier returns and I immediately begin cutting the rubber soles off the dead hunter's boots. As fast as I can, I slice them into thin strips and place them in my pocket.

Finally, as I sling an assault rifle across my chest, I realize something that lifts my morale to the highest point since this all started:

"_I am armed, I am dangerous, and they know it." _I reach down to the radio and click the transmit button.

"Did you see that?" I say with a quiet fury into the microphone. "Did you see what I did to them? Let her go, or the same thing will happen to all of you…" I quickly release the button and prepare to run. Before I even have the chance to take one step, Ohm answers back.


	16. The Hunted Chapter 15

_"HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!"_ the laughing that echoes through the jungle is so deafening that I must cover my ears to block out the pain. I try to figure out where it's coming from: maybe some secret speaker or drone flying through the air, but it seems to be emanating from the trees themselves.

"Wonderful, Colonel Snow, absolutely wonderful. Your skills have exceeded all my expectations."

"Does this works both ways?" I mutter.

"Yes, we can have a pleasant conversation as long as my cameras are trained on you." It seems my initial assessment was correct.

"So, you can _see_ me as well."

"I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say I've been following your progress with great interest from the very beginning." A gamble here is worth the risk. It may reveal what I've planned, but if I'm going to risk my life, I need this information to know if it's worth it. Time to see how smart…or just plain arrogant Ohm really is.

"So, that means I'm always being watched by your cameras?" I say trying to feign that I don't understand.

"As long as I know where to point them, yes."

_Bingo. _I change the subject to avoid dwelling on the point.

"Did you really expect those hunters to finish me off?"

"You are _an officer_. I had to see if all that sitting behind a desk had dulled your reflexes. I'm very happy to see that it hasn't. Ares "The Animal" Snow, a killing machine with Neanderthal ingenuity: has a wonderful ring to it, doesn't it?" I feel the rage rising again.

"Stop calling me an animal!"

"Your current appearance begs to differ."

"I'm sorry, I don't exactly have a mirror out here."

"Of course, how silly of me. Here, see if this helps make my point."

Suddenly, the entire sky fills with a holographic image: a live video feed of me standing in the jungle. Ohm zooms down right on my body. Every detail is crystal clear for the entire island to gawk at. Unfortunately, I see his point. My entire body is covered with caked black mud. Only my red bloodshot eyes and crimson stained hands stand out. Covered with weapons from head to toe, I do appear to be some kind of vicious monster: a killing machine without any sign of humanity.

"I get the point, Ohm, but this wasn't my choice. You forced my hand."

"The excuse of tyrants since the beginning of history: as the great artist Michelangelo once said, '…the masterpiece was always there, I just chipped away a few rough edges.'"

"You think I actually intend to continue to my family's legacy of tyranny and murder? Hell, after all the time we've spent together, I'd think you know me better than that"

"Maybe, My Dear Colonel, but I apologize if you think….I'm dragging your name… _through the mud. Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!"_

The maniacal laughing begins echoing through the trees once more. I have never seen this side of Ohm before. He always was so cool and calculating in actions. Now, it seems he has truly revealed his inner self: a psychotic sadist who loves to view the suffering of others in repayment for his own pain.

"Shut up! Shut up, damn you!" I scream shaking my fist at the sky. The hologram mirrors my every move and just makes me seem more helpless than I already am.

"Maybe I should ask for a second opinion? What do you think, Mrs. Snow?" The image in the sky suddenly shifts to my wife. The steady stream of water into the tube has continued. The level is now around her knees.

"Lizzy!" I scream. Her eyes widen as she realizes I can see her. She presses the palms of her hands against the plastic.

"Ares…" she manages to choke out. I know her well enough to realize she is holding back tears. Apparently, I am not as strong as she is. I can feel warm streaks washing away some of the mud from my face. "Ares, whatever happens, just realize that no matter what I always love you. No matter what!" I understand what she means. She would rather her life end today than mine. "Run! Escape, like I know you can!"

"Lizzy, It'll be alright. Nothing will happen to either of us. Just hold on! I'm coming for you!" I scream towards the sky.

"No! No don't, you'll die!"

"We're both gonna make it out of here just fine, I promise." The audio cuts out. I see her lips moving but hear nothing. Ohm's thunderous voice returns.

"_How touching._ Two fools so in love that neither of them can realize the hopelessness of their respective situations. Shakespeare couldn't have written this better."

"You sick bastard!"

"_Careful_, Colonel Snow," Ohm says in a condescending voice. Lizzy freezes in terror once more. Even though I can't see him, I know he must be holding his finger over the button again. I immediately cease my tirade, if just for her welfare. "That's better now, I cannot stand a lack of civility, even in combat."

I am so angry I literally growl back at him.

"Oh, there's the animal I love to watch so much. I really did enjoy this conversation, Colonel. I hope you'll live long enough so that we may have another, but I really can't guarantee that, of course."

"Of course."

"Twenty hours left, Colonel Snow." I look back to the silent image of Lizzy as the water slowly rises around her. "Make your choice," he repeats once again. "In the mean time, I'm sending you two little presents. It's funny, had they been ready sooner, I might have even brought them to one of our little meetings I enjoyed so much."

_"Uh Oh…"_

"May the odds be ever in your favor, My Dear Colonel. Farewell…hopefully, just for now."

As Ohm's voice and the holoimage in the sky fade away, I become aware of a faint buzzing off in the forest that is growing closer and closer. Immediately, I run back into the trees, trying to find some cover from whatever I'm about to face. I see a tangle of exposed roots ahead and dive down into the dark mass. The buzzing continues to grow louder and louder until finally I see them: two white spheres, each about a foot in diameter, skimming ten feet off the ground through the jungle. As they grow closer, I realize that they each have what appears to be a miniature machine gun mounted underneath.

They slow down as they approach, scanning back and forth. As they close within a hundred feet, they simultaneously turn directly at me. I shove myself backwards through the tangle of roots just in time as they open up with their automatic weapons, sending a spray of bullets right where I was sitting.

The hail of fire continues as I bear crawl through the undergrowth and break free to the other side. The buzzing increases in intensity once more as they accelerate around to get a better shot. They move in a rapid, weaving pattern, slicing through the air as if they were being batted by an invisible tennis racquet. I take off into a sprint as they fire again. Bullets slice into the ground behind me, peppering my legs with dirt and debris.

I bob and weave in a zig-zag pattern, hoping to throw them off my trail, but they always stay just a few steps behind me.

_"Think, Ares, Think! How are they staying with you?"_ Could they be human controlled? No, their movements are too fast. Plus, it would not be difficult for an operator to lead me through the sights and calculate a shot. No, they must be automatically tracking me somehow…._tracking!_ Of course, they're being guided by the tracelet signal.

I decide to test my theory. I thrust my wrist out to my left side and then quickly dive to the right. A blast of bullets lands right where my hand was.

_"Ok, now I know what they're looking for, how do I get away? How did I get away from being tracked before? The creek bed!"_

I tear left and head back towards what I hope will save me for a second time this morning. More bullets fly just past me, barely missing my head. Good thing I decided to leave the body armor…

I continue dodging and ducking through the brush until I see the ravine just ahead. Once again, I dive downward.

"Whoah!" I scream out loud as I make a flying leap. Obviously, I didn't realize just how deep this was last night. I hit the ground and roll, twisting my ankle as I strike the mud below. A wave of pain shoots up my leg.

"Not now! Not now!" I curse through my painful breaths. I lay motionless in the shallow running water as I wait, hoping the pain will subside so I can keep moving, but it doesn't. The buzzing grows louder and louder as the drones approach. If this doesn't work, I'm trapped…and _dead_. Suddenly, they stop coming closer. I reach into my pocket and pull out the receiver. The screen displays a single sentence:

_"Searching for Signal."_

I may be saved. Slowly, I am able to climb to feet and put some weight on my ankle. It is still painful, but I know I must soldier up and deal with it. Careful to keep my wrist as low in the ravine as possible, I climb up an exposed root and peer over the edge of the creek bed. The two drones hover motionlessly, side by side, as if they are confused. Their guns sweep from side to side, but do not fire.

After a few quiet seconds, they separate into a search pattern, obviously trying to re-acquire me. I slowly crawl back down the root and into the ravine. With methodical precision, I raise up my rifle, click the safety off, and wait. One of the drones makes a lethal mistake and sweeps over the ravine. Instantly, it appears to detect the tracelet and its gun moves in my direction. _Too late. _It's already in my crosshairs and I fire. A quick burst of rounds rips through its thin, metal shell and the white sphere bursts into flames and falls into the creek, smoking. It's partner detects that it has been destroyed and quickly flies over. Another mistake: a second burst of rounds takes it down as well.

"Probably, should have kept those in the development phase a little longer…" I whisper hoping that Ohm is still listening.

I scan the wreckage to see if there is anything useful. Unfortunately, the machine guns use a different type of bullet than my other weapons. It's probably for the best though, since I don't want to weigh myself down too much.

I try putting weight on my ankle again. It's still painful, but at least I can move on it. The cool water of the creek helps as well. It seems impossible that I am unharmed in any other way, but I guess Fate is on my side…at least for now. I begin to limp back down the creek bed. After a few dozen yards, my ankle loosens up a bit and I break into a slow run.

The drones were the last straw. This thing on my wrist is eventually going to get me killed as has to go. Thanks to Ohm's unintentional gaff, I now know that without it, his cameras won't be able to find me either. The odds will be even; well _almost _even. I reach down and make sure the rubber strips from the hunter's boots are still there. Thankfully, they are. Without them, my plan has no chance of success and I will end up like a piece of well-done steak.

Just in case, I click the radio to transmit once more.

"Elizabeth," I say while still on the run. "I know they must be monitoring these transmissions, so I pray that you can hear this. Please understand, the risk I'm going to take is absolutely necessary. Without it, I don't stand a chance.

I just realized that I never told you back there that I love you, too. You are my whole world and my whole existence. If I fall here, always remember that I'll be looking down at you…forever."


	17. The Hunted Chapter 16

As I near the end of the creek bed, my ankle feels much better. I can sprint at almost full speed now.

_"At least I'm still able to run away,"_ I bemusedly think to myself. Hopefully, I won't be just running for much longer. I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that my wife needs me, or just the plain fact I don't want Ohm to win, but either way the dual motivation of seeing Lizzy in imminent danger while that long-haired freak watches our suffering with gleeful delight seems to be the best medicine.

The sunlit cliff edge appears through the end of the trees. The receiver begins to beep, telling me that I'm being tracked again. I've got to move fast before he can stop me with another one of his little "presents." Before I reach the end of the jungle, I look around and find two fallen palm fronds. I crinkle them back and forth to make sure they are _bone_ dry. If they're wet I'm dead.

_"Man,"_ I let myself thinks for a second. _"They're sure a lot ways to die doing this."_ I went through SERE (or Survival Escape Resistance and Evasion) training when I was 18. One of the topics they covered was how to disable tracking devices. I do my best to recall my instructor's words carefully. Details are really important right now.

"The important thing to remember is that most tracer technology is very sensitive to being exposed to large amounts of electricity." Large amounts of electricity that are found in things precisely like the force field. "If you can pass a current of sufficient strength through the device without exposing yourself to the current's effects, nine times out of ten you will disable it." My nervousness grows as I remember what happened next. When he tried to give us a practical demonstration, he miscalculated the voltage and stopped his own heart. It took three medics and a defibrillator to revive him. Hopefully, I won't make the same mistake.

I run down towards the edge, carefully scanning for Ohm's barrier. Unfortunately, it has disappeared into the brightness of day. Just to be safe, I pick up another rock and throw it. It impacts the field ten feet from me and falls to the ground as it sizzles with heat.

_"Good, he hasn't caught on yet and turned the damn thing off."_ As fast as I can, I begin to strip off all my gear. Meticulously, I make sure that there is no other metal touching my skin. With the power I'm about to expose myself to, the heating that would occur causes third degree burns instantly. Next, I open one of my remaining canteens and place it directly at my feet.

_"Just to be safe," _I say to myself.

I place the palm fronds shoulder width apart on the ground. Plant materials like wood and leaves, once dried, insulate against flowing current. I'll stand on them to block the flow of electricity from passing from me into the earth. Otherwise, it will be like turning on a light bulb…with me as the glowing wire filament.

Finally, I grab the pieces of rubber from my pocket: the final safety measure. I have to make sure that no piece of the tracelet comes into any contact with my body so that the current flows through it rather than me. I wince as I think how painful what I'm about to do will be.

_"C'mon, Soldier. Just do it."_

I begin to shove the pieces of boot sole into the tiny gap between the tracelet and my skin. My flesh doesn't fare well as the friction of the rubber begins to rub my skin away like pencil lead. I just grit my teeth to block the pain and keep going. As I manage to shove the final strip underneath the tracelet, my hand literally begins to throb as all circulation is cut off by what is essentially a tourniquet. Within a few seconds, it has turned purple and swelled up like a balloon.

_"Better make this quick,"_ I think as my entire arm begins to grow numb. I won't be able to control it as carefully as I need to in order to make sure I don't accidently hit the force field with any other part of my arm. I reach down with my right hand and lift my dead stump up and into position. Soon, the tracelet is hovering just an inch away from the field of death.

Ohm must finally realize what I'm about to try because the thundering voice from the trees returns. My heart jumps as the surprise nearly causes me to bump the force field.

"What are you doing, Colonel Snow?"

"Well, howdy doo, Rikard. Good to talk to you again."

"Surely, you can't be seriously considering this course of action? The odds are you'll end up like a sausage over a campfire!"

"Maybe, but if it works it may make this whole thing a little more interesting for us. I thought that's what you wanted right?"

"Don't you dare try it, Snow." His voice is growing serious now. I think Ohm is actually getting concerned. "Do you want your wife to watch as you burn alive? That force field is one of the most powerful on the planet."

"She can either watch me burn alive, or die is some other grizzly fashion that your sick mind comes up with. I might as well…_make my choice_."

"I'm warning you for the last time, Snow. Don't do it. I'll even let you recover your gear and run back into the jungle unmolested for a whole ten minutes."

"Ah, I don't think so, Rikard. I appreciate the offer though."

"If it's something more interesting you want, Colonel, I can always throw in some Quarter Quell style surprises. How does that suit you?"

"Quarter Quell this, _bitch_," I growl through my teeth. "This is for you, Lizzy," I say with one last deep breath.

"Shut it off! Shut it off!" I hear Ohm yell to some nameless technician, but he's too late. I shove the tracelet directly into the force field. Every muscle in my body clenches as a million volts jumps through it into my body. I cannot move, breathe, and the only thought in my head is:

_"Pull away! Make this stop!"_ but I can't. Just as I about to think I'm done for, the technician follows through with Ohm's orders and the field deactivates. As soon as control of my body returns, I leap back towards my gear and collapse. The rubber has been superheated by the smoking tracelet and is beginning to melt into my skin. I grab the canteen and pour it onto my wrist. Sizzling steam rises from the tracelet as it cools back down. As I begin to pull the burnt rubber shreds from underneath it, wonderful circulation returns my hand to normal. I look to where I had been standing before. Two black scorch marks precisely in the shape of my feet are burned into the palm fronds. I don't even want to think about the damage that could have occurred to the inside of my body.

_"Hope this was worth it,"_ and there's only one way to find out. I reach for the receiver and check the display. What I see literally causes me laugh with joy.

_"Critical Error. Signal Lost."_ I've done it. Now, stealth is my ally once again and the fight is no longer impossible. I can win…and Ohm knows it too.

As I'm about to finish strapping my gear back to my body, his thunderous voice returns. In his artificial tones is the anger of a genius that has proven a fool by his own invention.

"I WARNED YOU! I WARNED YOU ABOUT BREAKING THE RULES, DIDN'T I?"

"I only recall hearing you say there were two rules, Ohm. 'I run and they run after me.' I don't remember a damn thing about me trying to even the odds a bit," I say as I pick up my assault rifle from the ground.

"Regardless, now you will pay the price for your actions!"

"And exactly what is that, Rikard? Are you going to try and kill me again?" I say with an arrogant sarcasm that I immediately regret. The price ends up being worse than I could have possibly imagined.


	18. The Hunted Chapter 17

"When I misbehaved in service to your grandfather, do you know what happened to me?"

"He sent you to bed without any supper?" Ohm's rage continues to simmer and build.

"_Hardly_. The beatings were the easiest part. Eventually, your body stops reacting to physical pain. No, that is why President Snow saved a special treat for me. Sometimes, it was when I had failed to fold his shirts to his exact specifications. Others, it was when there was a spot on his favorite table linens. Sometimes, it was just because he felt bored….His guards would drag me to a viewing room in the back of his private quarters. There was a special chair: a chair made of steel that no matter how long you laid in it, was ice cold. So cold, it would numb the skin seconds. I would be strapped down, so tight that the leather manacles would cause my wrists and ankles to bleed. Then, my head would be locked in a cold steel vise, followed by a pair of lid locks. Do you know what it's like to have a pair of steel hooks crammed underneath your eyelids and then screwed open, Colonel? Feeling your eyeballs dry out and tear until some nameless assistant remembers to drip some saline into them?" Ohm's ranting is becoming angrier and more nonsensical. I actually begin to grow frightened. I hold out my hands to the sky in a gesture of feigned friendship.

"No, I don't, Rikard. I'm very sorry about what President Snow did to you. Please, understand that I hate him as much as you do."

"Oh, I doubt that very much, Ares, for we haven't even gotten to the best part yet. _He _would stand over me, breathing his disgusting rose-scented stench into my face; a smile creeping across his crimson lips. He would tell me whatever he was upset about, his snake eyes glowing in the dim yellow light of the room, savoring the agony that I was about to endure. Snow wouldn't even bother to wipe his damn mouth with a handkerchief as he was speaking. He would just let the blood drip onto my face from his diseased lips…"

Suddenly, a clap of thunder echoes across the island. Large clouds form in the sky, blocking out the sun. I soon notice that there is something very off about these clouds: something unnatural. Another clap of the thunder and I feel raindrops hitting my head. The sound of the rain on the leaves of the jungle grows louder and louder till it is almost deafening. My mouth drops in horror as I realize that I have seen this once before, but it didn't have the same effect on screen as it does in real life. Looks like Ohm wasn't kidding about throwing in some Quarter Quell surprises. As the tiny rivers formed by the sudden deluge drip down my face and into my mouth, the warm, salty taste confirms that this isn't any illusion. Blood is falling from the sky, and it is only getting worse. I dash toward the trees trying to find some shelter as Ohm continues his rant.

"Sometimes, there would be a prick of a syringe as well. It depended on his mood. If it was a minor infraction, like say not filling his wine glass enough, it might be as little as a trace. However, if it was something major, like a chip on his favorite set on bone china, he would inject enough into my veins to almost kill me. Have you ever been injected with Tracker Jacket venom, Colonel Snow?"

"No Rikard, I haven't." I say trying to find some shelter among the leaves, but there is none. The storm has only grown in strength. The jungle is now starting to flood with crimson. The creek bed which had been a mere trickle a few minutes ago is now nearly filled to the top with a flowing river of blood. "Again, I'm very sorry about what was done to you. I honestly deplore it as much as you do, but you have to realize that it wasn't our fault. We both have the same enemy, and killing me isn't going to change that." Ohm ignores my apology once more.

"Since you don't know what it's like, let me try to describe the sensation of the world around you, melting into burning fiery pain. But it's different than any other pain you've ever felt because it comes from _inside_ of you. Leaving everything you experience completely unaffected, or so it seems to you. The hallucinations blend seamlessly into reality. Suddenly, it seems completely normal to see poisonous snakes and spiders crawling out of people's mouths and eyes, dropping all over you before they begin to bite at your flesh. I always tried to scream, but thanks to my surgical alterations, all I could do was make muted gasps of horror." The flood of blood continues to grow. My legs sink in the red mud until they are up to my ankles.

"Rikard, please stop this."

"I always tried to ask that same thing to my torturers, but of course I couldn't, Colonel Snow." He continues, "That's when the recording of my wife and son's death would begin, just as the horror of the venom reached its zenith. My son dies first. A Peacekeeper grabs him by his neck, lifts him into the air, and puts a pistol to his head. Then, in a flash, he is just gone: dropping off camera and forever out of existence. My wife's execution, however, is much more up close and personal. They shoved the camera directly into her face so that her horrified, screaming visage would fill the entire screen. Through her tears, she always asks the same question, 'Why are they doing this, Rikard. What did _you_ do?' Yes, my wife blamed my actions for my family's execution. Then, the same Peacekeeper puts his pistol, still splattered with my son's brains, behind her head and pulls the trigger. Snow always had the video slowed down, so that I could see the bullet pass through her forehead, the same forehead that I kissed so lovingly every day my previous happy life…Do you know what it's like to watch your wife suffer and be powerless to do anything about it, My Dear Colonel?..."

"Lizzy!" I scream over the sound of the red rain pouring down around me.

"Why don't we find out?" The holoimage in the sky returns projected against the crimson clouds. Lizzy is panicking in her plastic prison. The water has now reached almost to her waist.

"Ares!" she yells hoping that I can hear her.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I scream over and over again but apparently Ohm keeps my words silent to her.

"Do you finally want to know what the little red button does, Colonel?"

"Ares," Lizzy continues, "don't let him break you. No matter what he does, I will still…._AHHHHHH_!" Lizzy's entire body clenches in pain. She screams in agony and the sound of her suffering echoes through the entire jungle. I press my hands over my ears as hard as I can, but cannot block out the sound of my wife's torture.

Lizzy is briefly released from the pain and manages a few more words.

"Ares, don't look just don't look. I know it's not you! I know it's not your fau…_AHHHHHHHH_!" Lizzy's violent screaming returns. I huddle on the floor of the jungle as the tide of blood rises around me.

"Make it stop! Just make it stop!" My pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.

"So it seems the mighty God of War does indeed have a weakness….._HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"_ Ohm's thunderous laughing returns and blends with my wife's piercing cries of pain. My tortured mind doesn't know what else to do. My only desire is to block out the hell around me. I press my head down into the mud pushing my face deep into the blood-soaked earth trying to find any kind of quiet refuge.

"It seems like Ares has become…._an ostrich_! Do you find that funny, Mrs. Snow?" I choke on the mix of dirt and blood. My breathing slows, as my heart begins to flutter. All I want is to die and end this sickness once and for all. Images of my grandfather's face pass through my mind as Ohm's laughing blends with the vision to become one picture of terror. Suddenly, I am the Avox strapped to the chair, unable to move, speak, or even cry out in horror. I just want my pathetic life to end and this pain to stop. I want to vindicate Ohm and have my evil family name die right here and now with me in the mud.

However, just as I am about to black out, Lizzy's screaming stops and she saves me once again. Through her gasping breaths, I hear her rejuvenating words:

"No, Ares, get up! Fight for me Ares! Fight like I know you can. YOU CAN'T LET HIM WIN! GET HIM FOR ME! SWEAR YOU'LL GET HIM!"

The world instantly changes. My face is no longer buried in the mud. I am on my feet and running through the jungle. My hands clench around my weapon as Lizzy's orders have given me the focus of a laser beam. There is now only one way to end the evil lineage of the Snow name. A Snow must stop this evil, and erase it from the world once and for all.

I look back into the sky just in time to see Lizzy's body give out from the agony and she collapses unconsciously into the pool around her. Her head comes to a rest just above the water line.

"You failed, Ohm! Once again you've proven just what a fool you are! Nothing has changed. I'm still alive and still going to kill you. The only difference is now I have more of reason to savor your last breaths before I end your life!"

Ohm's laughing has now turned back to fury.

"Very well, Colonel! The Games shall continue as planned. Your wife still lives and I still hold all the cards. I'll be sure to keep a recording of this little exchange to show along with the footage of your death for when she's the silent one strapped helplessly into a steel chair!"

"Bring your worst, old man! I'm still willing to play if you are!"

"EXCELLENT! Fourteen hours left till the mermaid breaths her last gasps so be sure not to hide like a coward for too long!"

Less than a minute later, the whistling returns, but this isn't a few random rounds designed to slow me down. No, this artillery barrage is designed to level half the island. Explosions rip through the trees, sending falling branches and metal shards screaming through the air around me. I keep running as fast as I can toward a small group of rocks I see in the distance. They are my only chance to get shelter from the steel and blood storm that continues to rage around me. Another artillery shell explodes directly above my head in the canopy. I feel shrapnel tear through my arm and rip into my flesh but I still don't stop. That's what he wants.

I suddenly remember that he's no longer able to track me. If I can disappear, he'll lose me until a time and place of my choosing. I break sharply to the right, running deeper into the jungle's cover. The strategy seems to be working as I notice the artillery impacts beginning to spread out more. Eventually, I dive into a depression shaded by another tangle of tree roots and begin to crawl.

The explosions fade into the distance and soon the only sounds are the blood rain dripping through the trees and my own breath as I struggle onward. Ohm must have lost me, because his voice returns for a final time.

"Keep running, Colonel! Don't you dare stop, because as soon as I find you, I will laugh as I force your little Lizzy to watch you die!"

_"Alright, Ohm,"_ I think as I continue to crawl through the cover of roots and branches. Finally, I see a gap at the other end and take off sprinting once more toward the rocks in the distance. _"I'll keep running. I'll keep running straight for you…"_


	19. The Hunted Chapter 18

The blood rain begins to lighten as I reach the rocks. Another large outcropping of stones, lying against the side of a hill: probably the remains of an ancient landslide. I quickly scan the exterior, and on the far side, think I find what I am looking for. A small cave lies sheltered underneath a natural stone awning. More importantly, a small trickle of clear water flows down the rocks and out toward the jungle.

_"A Spring!" _My canteens are long since empty and the exertion has built a burning thirst in my throat. I slip on the night vision glasses, raise my weapon, and crawl inside of the dark cave. I scan my surroundings briefly, only to quickly realize that I am thankfully alone in here. The cave extends for perhaps fifty feet back inside the side of the hill before coming to a stop at a solid wall of rock. A crack in the wall produces a tiny stream of water that drips into a pool at the back. I greedily bend down and dunk my head into the pool, gulping the water until I can't take another sip. Spring water is usually safe because it is naturally filtered through stone and sand. If I'm wrong at this point, it probably won't matter anyway because I'll be dead from dehydration in a few hours if I don't drink.

After my fill of water, my attention turns to my injuries. I dip a canteen into the spring, roll up my sleeve, and gently pour a stream of water over my arm. The blood and dirt wash away, revealing three long gashes cut into my right forearm. Nothing too serious, but they'll definitely have to be patched up to prevent infection. The question is patched up with what? I rip a small strip from the bottom of my t-shirt, wash it in the spring, and then wrap it around my arm like a bandage. The cool clean water feels so refreshing on the wound that I don't hesitate to dunk my left wrist into the spring as well. The skin underneath the tracelet was burned by the melting rubber, and now the salt from the drying blood rain combined with the constant rubbing of the tracelet is proving to be very annoying.

The magnetic interlocks should have been deactivated when the tracelet was shorted out. Now, it's just a matter of picking the lock. But again,with what?

I'm too tired to think about it right now. I have not stopped moving in over ten hours and need to rest, if only for a little while. I lean back against the cool stone of the cave wall as my eyes grows heavy.

_"Can't sleep for too long. Just a few minutes….Lizzy…needs…me…."_

I feel so foolish, standing on beach like this in my dress blacks, but Lizzy told me that she has been dreaming of a traditional District 4 wedding since she was a little girl. Far be it for me to be the one who ruins that for her.

Her father will perform the ceremony as has been the tradition for these people since ancient times. He stands behind me in the warm sand. The rest of the Odairs form a mob that separate me from Lizzy. It is their job to make sure that I don't see her until the time is right. I've never really been familiar with District wedding rituals. It was something that was not covered in my martial education. Every motion and every word has significance so deep that the average Capitol peon with their neon clothes and lacquered hair would be far too shallow to understand. It's not about the glitz or glamour for these people. It's about the love. I made sure that Lizzy explained every single step of the ceremony to me again last night before we parted. I wanted to get everything perfect: both for her sake and mine.

Just as I try to take one last deep breath, Lizzy's father leans forward and grabs my hand.

"Just remember, boyo," he says in his friendliest district accent, "after this, you'll be my son as well. Don't disappoint me."

"Any final pieces of advice?" I ask back in a whisper.

"Learn to duck. Odair women like to throw things when they're angry." He points to a small scar on his forehead. "First time me mother caught me drunk."

I manage an awkward laugh before he hits me hard on the back.

"Welcome to the family, Ares."

"Thank you, Sir." A blast from a conch shell and the entire crowd of family parts like a biblical sea. There she is, _the love of my life_: clad from head to toe in vibrant cream colored silk decorated with brilliant polished shell and coral beadwork. As it has been for generations, Lizzy made the dress herself with the help of every other woman in her family. It will become something saved and treasured that will be in her possession until her dying day. Her long, red hair is braided with intricate knots that must have been tied with a master's hands, delicately interwoven with more polished shells.

As she begins the walk towards me and her father, Aunt Annie walks a few feet behind her carrying a fishing net woven from grass, however, it is not grass from District 4. Another man wove this net in District 13 almost twenty years ago for a different wedding. When Lizzy chose Annie as her net-bearer, Annie donated an incredible gift that in District 4 is almost unheard of, her wedding net. That was the last straw for Finnick Jr. The idea of a Snow throwing his father's wedding net set him into a rage that caused him to take to the sea. He hasn't been heard from in days.

Lizzy slowly steps forward until we stand side by side. Annie hands me the net with a kiss to my cheek. As Lizzy explained it, this will be the first step to joining us together for the rest of our lives, _I have to catch her_. I throw the net over her head and pull her next to me. As she stands just a few inches away, smiling through the grass knots back at me, I throw the net over my own head, and we are locked together.

Mr. Odair begins the ancient words of the ceremony.

"Love is force as unstoppable and immovable as the tides. To fight it, would be as foolish as a man trying to stop the waves from crashing to the shore. We are gathered here together today to bond this man and this woman together forever in the most sacred of ways. If any witness here thinks this be wrong, let him speak now or forever be silent….

_"Good thing Finnick isn't here…" _

Mr. Odair turns to me.

"Ares, do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Elizabeth's heart, to guide her away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be her anchor against all storms?"

"I swear."

"Elizabeth, do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Ares' heart, to guide him away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be his anchor against all storms?"

"I swear."

Mr. Odair produces a simple clay bowl which he hands to Annie. She walks into the surf and fills it to the brim with seawater before returning and handing it to him.

"From the sea, we all came and one day to it will return." He dips two fingers from his right hand into the bowl and then holds them in front my mouth. I kiss them as he says, "As the brine touches your lips, take it as a reminder of where we once came and that the joy of this union should be savored until it is time for your return." He dips his fingers back into the bowl and then places them in front of Lizzy. She kisses them as he repeats, "As the brine touches your lips, take it as a reminder of where we once came and that the joy of this union should be savored until it is time for your return."

Right on cue, all the witnesses begin to sing in beautiful harmony:

_As I pointed my ship's bow away from home…_

_I asked Heaven, "Must I sail alone?"_

Lizzy's eyes fill with tears of love and joy. It is everything in my power not to taste her lips right then and there, but she told me that this would be terrible luck. The song must finish before our first kiss.

_Through sun and storm, through wind and wave_

_It is your love that will always save…_

"By the power vested in me by the sea's holy judgment, I now pronounce this man and this woman to be married! You may kiss the bride.

Lizzy and I jump forward, wrap our arms around each other, and kiss with a passion that will never die. Nothing could spoil this moment. Nothing accept…

My eyes shoot open, and the pain returns. I am back in the cave. A tear has run down my face during my dream. I reach up with my fingers, wipe it away, and then taste it. Its saltiness reminds me of Mr. Odair's prophetic words.

I look out the opening of the cave. The blood rain has stopped, and the bright afternoon sun has returned in its place. I reach over and grab my rifle, knock out the locking pins, and field strip it down. I grab the bolt carrier from the receiver and slam it on the rocks. The firing pin slides out the back and into my hands.

I feel it for a few seconds. It seems impossibly light.

"Must be one of those alloys of his personal design that Ohm was talking about…Time to see how good you really are, Rikard." If I break this pin, the entire rifle becomes useless. Risks have paid off so far today. Why stop now?

I hold out my left wrist, and insert the pin into the lock on the tracelet.

As I begin to work it in the lock, Mr. Odair's words pass through my thoughts again:

_"Do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Elizabeth's heart, to guide her away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be her anchor against all storms?"_

Finally time I started living up to that oath. Ohm's taunts finally seem to make sense to me now.

_"Ares, the God of War, himself," _he has repeated over and over again.

That's the real reason that Ohm saved me for last. Not because I was the youngest of the Sixteen, but because I was the only one who was a real warrior. He's tired of slaughtering old, worn out exiles. He spent the Revolution locked in slavery, unable to fight in any way against the Snows. All he could do was lead another group of Soldiers to the last refuge of his master, and this was never good enough revenge. No, the last Snow is now a force to be reckoned with, and the Avox finally has the resources to fight back. _He_ wants the glory this time.

I jerk the firing pin to the right and hear the click I've been waiting for. I reach down, pull the tracelet free from my wrist and throw it against the cave wall as hard as I can.

"You want a real fight, Rikard Ohm?" I find myself speaking out loud. "You want the blood of a Snow who can actually fight back? You want your own personal little war? You've betrayed my nation, kidnapped the innocent, murdered the helpless, and now you've tortured my wife right in front of my eyes…" I place the firing pin back in my rifle, reassemble my weapon, slam a fresh magazine into the receiver, and slide the bolt forward with a click. "You want a war? _I'll give you a war you won't believe…"_


	20. The Hunted Chapter 19

The Sun is just beginning to set over the volcano as I approach Ohm's compound. I carefully scan it through the trees to get a better idea of what I'm dealing with. It appears to be built into the side of the mountain. A large balcony jutting out from the rock face overlooks a huge courtyard filled with ground vehicles, hovercraft, ammunition crates, and shipping containers. A twenty-five foot tall concrete wall ringed with razor wire separates the compound from the rest of the jungle. Two guard towers with emplaced machine guns loom at the two corners of the wall.

_"Damn, they have spotlights…" _No doubt that will be scanning the forest closely as soon as the sun goes down._ "Not that it would matter looking at those gates."_ The main gates are twenty-feet tall, made of solid steel and seem to be bolted firmly shut from the inside. It would take something massive to bring those things down. Ohm definitely didn't skimp on the budget when he built this little island getaway.

A single-lane dirt road leads from the gate out into the jungle. It winds and twists for a little over a mile before it reaches a hoverpad and dock complex located on the only beach visible on this side of the island. That road is how I found my way back to the main compound, and how I intend to get into Ohm's little fortress. The question is _how to get inside?_

Just as I'm about to decide to sneak back into the cover of the trees and wait for darkness, I receive a wonderful little present. It seems Ohm needs a little break from his control room. He steps out onto the balcony and gazes out over the jungle. One of his bodyguards stands directly next to him. I see them exchange a few words that I'm unable to make out at this range. From the way his arms are flailing, I can see that he's still upset about our exchange a few hours ago. I can only pray that he hasn't taken his rage out any further on Lizzy, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I can't let him use her against me again. That's what Lizzy was trying to tell me back there. If we're going to escape together, then I have to be focused. Whatever he has done, we'll live with consequences as one, even if it means I have to spend every waking moment for the rest of my life putting her back together again. It's what I owe her after what she's given me: _freedom to fight_.

I click to a higher magnification. I can now see his face, worn and weathered; it's pale appearance completely out of place here in the tropical sun. That is his mistake: he has failed to adapt. This place is no different to him than his labs in the Capitol or his factory in District 2. He hasn't learned what it can offer him besides the artificial terrors he himself has built here. Therefore, he hasn't learned what it can offer his enemies: _or what it has offered me…_

_ "Time for a quick lesson on arrogance, Ohm."_

I reach down and click my radio to transmit.

"Evening, Rikard." I say trying to mask all fear and doubt from my voice. He has to understand that I am in control now. He jumps in surprise on the balcony, as if he never expected to hear my voice speaking directly to him again. He says something to the bodyguard next to him, who begins yelling something into a radio that I can't hear. Ohm then picks up his personal radio to answer back.

"Good Evening to you, Ares. I suppose we're on a first name basis now?"

"Well, with everything we've been through together, now it seems appropriate."

"Very well, so it seems you're still alive. Pity, I was hoping my little bombardment would have taken care of you once and for all. I was just about to order my men to start scouring the forest for what pieces were left of your corpse. Something for your wife to look at during her surgical transformation in a few hours."

"Surely, you think more of me than that, Rikard?

"Well, considering how stupid it is of you to go through all that trouble to deactivate your tracelet only to start broadcasting on an open radio frequency. You must realize that I'll be able to locate you in just a few short seconds from now?"

"Go ahead. As you once told me back in the Capitol, _'You may not like what you find.'_"

"Don't try to intimidate me, Snow…"

"_Ares,_ Rikard please. We're friends now, remember?"

"Very well, _Ares_, don't try to intimidate me. I've strung a fool-proof sensor net out around my fortress for three hundred meters. I know the location of every buzzing fly that's stupid enough to beat its wings as it gets too close to me. Don't be so stupid to assume that I wouldn't know when you're coming."

"A sensor-net, yes. Fool-proof, I wouldn't be so sure. You might want to hire another camouflage advisor for when you build your next fortress of doom."

"There's no way you could have spotted the sensor spheres…"

"You're right, because they're sensor cubes and they're hidden the trees. In fact, I think they're the same ones you showed me at Special Defense about a year ago. Seriously, why do you insist on making everything in that particular shape? I'd consult Lizzy to see if there's some psychological explanation for that…."

I see him mouth the word _"dammit"_ but he keeps his voice on the radio calm.

"Speaking of Mrs. Snow, Ares, you might want to refrain from your pathetic attempts at taunting before I decide to have another corrective session broadcast to this entire island…"

"You won't hurt her again, Rikard."

"And why exactly are you so sure of that?"

"Because, she's the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"Excuse me?"

"Touch one more hair on her head, and I'll punish you for it. Kill her, and I won't stop. I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth and ensure that the last thing the terrified look on your face sees is me pointing the knife to your throat…."

Ohm begins to laugh.

"Well, My Dear Ares, it seems you have indeed lost your mind! Tracelet or not, I'm still here in an impregnable fortress and you are still trapped on a hostile deserted island where the only hope of escape is through me."

"You really underestimate me, Rikard."

"Why do you say that?"

I click the safety off on my weapon, pull the rifle tight into my shoulder, squeeze the trigger, and send a round flying straight towards Ohm on the balcony. As his bodyguard's head explodes next to him into million pieces and spatters him with brains, Ohm literally dives for cover back into his mountain refuge. After a few silent seconds, I finally receive a verbal answer.

"That was a very impressive shot, Ares!" he exasperatingly screams into his radio.

"Not really, Rikard, I was aiming for you. This new ammo of your design is shit for accuracy out past 300 meters. I'm afraid that after extensive testing, the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces will have to decline on our order…"

"How _dare_ you…"

"How dare I? It seems you're forgetting which one of us decided to start the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games, but what you failed to realize with all your so-called intelligence is which one of us is going to_ finish_ them…"

"You arrogant fool! And just what makes you think that you can possibly defeat me?"

"Because, since you've been so blinded by hate, you don't realize that I have the greatest weapon of all on my side."

"And what is that? Knives, guns, blind obedience to your pathetically impotent new order?"

"Not all, Rikard. _Love_…"

"How incredibly naïve! Soon, you will realize just what a liability love can be…just as I did. Don't you think for one second that I wouldn't end her pathetic existence right now if it suited me!"

"Uh, uh, uh, remember what I just said about me punishing you…"

"You're a dead man, Snow!"

"You have to catch me first, Rikard," I say as I slip on my night vision glasses and prepare to escape back to the jungle.

"I intend to. Since you are obviously so close, Ares, why don't you take a look at what's coming your way?"

The front gates fly open and a truck loaded with more hunters screams onto the road. It drives wildly toward my sniper position. They are all distracted, loading their weapons and yelling orders at one other, completely unaware that each and every one of them has about ten seconds to live.

Normally, I would be more concerned about having to face a force so large by myself, but luckily I left a little a surprise just outside Ohm's sensor net. When I noticed what kind of truck that Ohm's forces were using, I decided to make use of one of my precious two grenades. That particular model of vehicle has a very vulnerable spot in its armor. Though it's very well protected from side attacks, there is a weak spot just underneath the primary fuel tank.

As the truck drives around a bend in the road, it clips a wire that I have strung between two trees, detonating the grenade buried in the road. Burning hot shrapnel rips through the undercarriage directly into the main tank which then explodes in a brilliant fire ball. The driver is killed instantly, but the poor hunters in the back dive from the wreckage and run in screaming circle so that Ohm can hear every one of their tortured last gasps of life. Their flaming bodies have become human torches, lighting the newly fallen darkness of the jungle night.

"See that, Rikard? It seems I have a few 'presents' of my own now. Good luck, for it seems that the odds are indeed in _my_ favor." I click off the transmit button.

Suddenly, the holoimage of Lizzy returns to the night sky. The water has now reached the bottom of her chest. She is conscious again, but becoming more and more nervous as she flails in the tube. All I can do is grit my teeth and run back into the forest, using the glasses to guide my path as the light from the burning truck fades behind me. Soon, I'm alone again the forest, disappearing like a ghost. I've done what I've needed to do for now. Next, comes the hardest part. Waiting for _them_ to make a mistake.

Ohm's voice returns from the trees.

"Look at her, Colonel Snow!"

_"Guess he doesn't believe that we're still friends…"_

"Look into her terrified eyes as your mermaid gasps for the few final hours of her life! You claim to love her? You claim that she is the one who drives you forward? Well then, her image will not fade from the sky until this is all over. Only seven hours left! Seven hours and then you watch her die! You've done nothing tonight except prove me right! You are an animal, an unholy killer! Justice will be served tonight! I swear it!"

I can't tell if he's just trying to encourage his men to continue to press their futile offensive, or just bolster his own shattered ego. Either way, I'll let Ohm continue his pointless rant. After all, he's the one covered in blood this time.

He's lost this one and he knows it. It is crystal clear that the jungle is now mine. His hunters realize that _they_ are now the prey and will be afraid to leave the compound, which I've made sure to show them is no longer a safe haven either. Instead of trying to track me down, they will now be busy with fortifying their positions and lying in wait for my next attack. They think I will come to them, and they are right. What they fail to realize is that no defense ever created is perfect. I will find a way in, and strike right at their hearts.

My first victory has achieved exactly what it was supposed to. _Fear. _Ohm knows he's lost the offensive to me, and I will never let him reclaim it.


	21. The Hunted Chapter 20

I fly back in the direction of the cave, but before I reach its safety, Ohm strikes another blow. From over the eastern coast, comes the unmistakable loud roar of hovercraft engines. I run to a tree and climb, hoping to get some view of the approaching threat. I climb up till I break the very bottom of the canopy and gaze out into the night. Normally they would be invisible, but with the glasses I can see them as clear as day. A line of five hovercraft, each spaced about half a mile apart, flying slowly abreast and approaching the shore line.

At first, I wonder what they could possibly be doing. Are they preparing for a bombing run or some kind of strafe attack? No, they're moving way too slowly. Their purpose has to be something far more deliberate. It's almost like they're…like they're trying to flush something back towards the center of the island. _Of course,_ they're the beaters, and I'm the quail.

_"Very good, Rikard, but what exactly do you think will scare me straight back towards you?" _

I don't have to wait long for an answer. As the hovercraft just cross the cliff, I see a pair of canisters drop from underneath each of their winglets and gently fall to the ground. A series of quiet pops precedes a billowing cloud that erupts from each of the canisters. I am very thankful for my glasses at this point because they've probably saved my life. Otherwise, in the darkness I wouldn't have been able to tell the color of that cloud…_ice blue._

As soon as my eyes comprehend what I am seeing, I drop from the tree and begin to sprint as hard as I can back toward the compound. It isn't long before the roar of the hovercraft a few miles away is overshadowed by another horrifying sound…_screaming, _but it is not the screaming of human beings. It is the screaming of Mother Nature herself as thousands of birds, monkeys, and other creatures all succumb to the deadly cloud that is creeping back towards me. I can actually hear the study thumping as their lifeless corpses fall from the treetops to the ground in an approaching rhythm of death…

To better understand the magnitude of current events, one must have a little history lesson first. Despite its absolute victory in the first war of the Dark Days, the Capitol was not satisfied in merely re-subordinating the Districts under their Will. So, the Council of 10, then led by Nero Snow, my esteemed great-grandfather, developed a three-pronged strategy to ensure that the Districts would never rise again. Thankfully, we know today that the strategy was doomed to failure, but at the time it seemed like an absolute stroke of genius. The first prong was starvation: limit the Districts' access to food in order to ensure their continued weakness and reliance on the central authority for survival. People cannot organize to rebel if they are concerned only with their personal well-being. The second prong was competition: make the Districts fight each other so that they would be less willing to cooperate on a grander scale. This little piece resulted in the Hunger Games. Each District would watch enemies from another District slaughter their children without mercy. The winning District would then feast for a whole year at the price of the all the others' suffering…diabolically brilliant. Finally, the third prong: _annihilation_. If the Capitol had the ability to wipe any enemy off the map without so much as batting an eyelash, that enemy would be far less inclined to start problems.

Now, it was that third prong that actually proved to be the most challenging, for you see weapons of mass-destruction are a double edged sword. Obviously, they must be destructive enough to cause death and devastation on a large scale, but at the same time, they must not be so destructive so that they render their target so toxic that the target will be useless for generations to come. Even though the first two prongs were implemented almost immediately, the third prong remained elusive for almost forty years, until it was cracked by a young, unknown scientist for District 3 named Rikard Ohm.

Officially, it was known as _Nerve Agent, BX-CD950_ but due to its ice blue physical appearance, and the fact that its victims spent the last ten seconds of their excruciatingly painful lives seizing and shaking, it became known by its more popular nickname of _"Shiver."_

Any physical contact with even a micro-gram of Shiver anywhere on the victim's skin creates a cascading nervous reaction that it incurable. No antidote of any effectiveness in known to exist, this was done on purpose. Shiver also has another very unique characteristic. It begins to break down into its component substances as soon as it is exposed to oxygen. Therefore, less than an hour after you wipe out an entire population, your soldiers can march into the area with no protective gear whatsoever and take back what belonged to the Capitol without firing a shot.

So, you're probably asking yourself why when the Capitol was in possession of such a perfect anti-insurrection weapon would they choose not to use it even when fighting for their own lives? Well, that is because Shiver was only tested on a human being once, and the result was so horrifying that the entire Council of 10 signed a written document forever banning its production as a crime so heinous that it was even against their own twisted view of humanity.

For decades, the tape of that experiment was sealed deep within the Peacekeeper archives until it was discovered after Snow's death. Of course, it was required viewing for me and the rest of the Sixteen. I still have nightmares about her face, the girl only known as _Subject E. _The tape was brief as the narrator described her background, a blonde fifteen-year old Avox sentenced to death for striking her master. Dressed in only a white-hospital gown, two Peacekeepers led her onscreen and into a clear glass room with a metal chair bolted to the center of it. The Peacekeepers strap her in tightly before two white-coated scientists do a final check of her vital signs, scribble some notes on their charts, and then seal the chamber. The camera then focuses on the girl's face. It is obvious that she knows her death is imminent…I always prayed that she never had any idea of what was about to happen.

Ohm enters next leading the entire Council of 10 to a railing overlooking the room. There is no audio, but it is obvious they are all laughing and joking as if it is some kind of glorious day, like they are about to become one step closer to becoming absolute masters of humanity. My grandfather is a young man, only recently having assumed power of President of Panem. Ohm is also so young and so different than he is now. His well-groomed hair is pulled behind his head neatly and as he proudly addresses the Council with his real voice that I, ironically, cannot hear on the tape. I know that he feels that he is about to be rewarded for his genius.

Ohm gives the signal. One of the scientists turns a valve. The Avox hears a spray enter the room and she looks up straining against her bonds. For a brief moment, there is almost relief in her eyes as she thinks she will finally have release from her punishment, but then…

Her entire body convulses in one vicious motion against her leather manacles as if a lightning bolt has passed clear through her. She begins to shake uncontrollably as the seizures take charge. She begins violently banging her head against the metal chair and blood starts to soak through her blonde hair as she bashes her own brains out. Her head thrashes one way and her torso thrashes the other, snapping her own neck. A strange, viscous white foam begins oozing from her mouth. The seizing continues, but it is obvious she is gone. Ohm is yelling something at the other scientists, but it is too late. All they can do is watch the thrashing slowly come to a stop. However, the girl's face is frozen in the most horrifying gaze imaginable, as if she is staring straight into your heart, forever judging you with motionless eyes.

Gaius Bunton is the first to vomit, but he is not the last. One by one, the rest of the Council all become sick and run screaming from the room until finally only Rikard Ohm is left. After yelling one more silent phrase to the other scientists, he slowly approaches the gas chamber, places his hands on the glass, and then can be seen to mouth a single sentence to the girl's corpse, still restrained in the chair:

"_I'm sorry…" _It was that one silent phrase that has given me faith in Ohm's humanity until the Sixteen started disappearing. That he was somehow never the monster. That he was just a man in horrible circumstances who finally realized the sheer magnitude of his crimes and finally took a stand against the real monsters only to pay the ultimate price.

Now, that entire view is shattered. I wonder if Ohm even remembers _Subject E_ from over forty years ago. The girl, a fellow Avox that he might have helped liberate from silence decades later if she had not been chosen for that gruesome experiment. An experiment that I could not help but notice has been erased from all modern histories of Rikard Ohm as it appears to conflict too much with his heroic image that is the official story passed to the public these days.

All I know is that now I am trapped on his island, running like a wild beast away from a cloud of gas that if I even come near, I will suffer the same fate as _Subject E_ only on one hundred times the scale. I cannot help but grimace as I realize that Ohm has finally destroyed himself, once and for all. It will never be possible for him to ever redeem himself because in an effort to get his revenge on his most hated enemies, he has now resorted to a weapon that even they in their sadistic musings even felt was too cruel.

I still run as fast as I can. The humming of the hovercraft is almost completely gone now. They probably don't want to risk the clouds of Shiver getting too close to the compound. Ohm knows there is no cure. Not that he has ever shown any sympathy for those working under him, but no narcissist wants to risk his own life for any cause. I'm less than a mile from the compound's walls now. I begin to slow because I know that if the hovercraft were the beaters, and I am the quail, that means the hunters must be close. I approach a small rise in the ground when suddenly several searchlights pierce the darkness. I hear hunter's voices screaming.

"He's got to be close! The gas should be forcing him in this direction."

"Hey, be sure to watch your position, if we stray too far east, we'll head straight into the Shiver."

"To hell, with that!"

"No shit!"

"Hey, get on the radio and tell _Tracks_ to move the hell up here, we need his support."

"_Tracks? That's an army call sign,"_ I think to myself. One I haven't heart since my early days in the mechanized corps. But that's not possible, surely Ohm couldn't have a…..

I hear the revving of a turbine-engine and the harsh grinding of metal on metal. I drop to the ground which begins to shake with the oncoming force of a behemoth. I run around to the corner of the rise, crawl to the top, and peer over the edge.

I see a squad of eight hunters, all armed with rifles, grenades, and hand-held spotlights walking along the one-lane dirt road. One of them is speaking into a radio. Suddenly, from around a bend, what I feared couldn't be true comes lumbering. A powerful searchlight mounted underneath the main gun scans hungrily for victims in the trees. Machine guns bristle from the turret all waiting to unleash an onslaught of fiery lead. The shaking of the ground grows more violent as the unstoppable sixty-ton steel beast approaches. It continues to scan the jungle until its bright searchlight freezes directly on me. The squad of hunters begins to yell as they see my silhouetted outline in the darkness. Yes, apparently I was a wrong. Ohm has a tank, and its gun is pointed directly at me.


	22. The Hunted Chapter 21

I feel the hypersonic shockwave of the round as it flies over my head before I feel the muzzle blast of the canon itself. The concussion blows me backward down the rise right before the shell explodes against a tree twenty yards behind me.

As I lay there, knocked completely senseless, a terrible sound reaches my ringing ears.

_"CRACK, CRACK, CRUNCH," _The shell blew clear through an ancient jungle tree nearly ten feet thick and the trunk begins to fall straight on top of me with a sickening roar. Instinctively, I roll to the left just in time to avoid being crushed by the tree's massive limbs.

_"Get up! Get up, Snow!"_ I keep yelling to myself, but it's no use. The shock has left me in too much of a daze. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the feeling returns back to my limbs. I manage to start climbing to my feet only to see a hunter standing at the crest of the rise, his assault rifle pointed directly at my head.

_"So this is how it ends…"_ I think as I see him move his finger to the trigger with a sadistic smile. A loud burst of heavy machine gun fire rips over the top of the rise, slicing the hunter in half. I hear the roar of the tank engine as it begins to maneuver toward me on the other side of the hill. _"Note to self: Do not get in front of that turret because those tankers don't give a damn what gets in their way…"_

I am on my feet again, running around the far side of the hill trying to get back into cover. I hear the shouts of the surviving hunters over the roar of the engine and the grinding of the tracks.

"WHAT THE HELL!" One of them screams.

"It was his own damn fault! Don't get too cocky and cross into their line of fire. They don't see very well in that thing."

Maybe I can use that. Make them _fight your fight_. I suddenly peel to the right and dive over the top of the rise, firing my assault rifle at the hunters as I sprint across the road fifty feet in front of them. One of the survivors is hit and falls to the ground dead. Before the other hunters return fire, the tank's turret swings toward my direction and they scatter like leaves hoping to avoid a repeat of their friend's death.

_"Six dismounts left."_ I hit the ground and lay as flat as I can as the anticipated main gun round flies blindly in my general direction. The shell screams fifty feet past my right and flies deep into the forest, exploding harmlessly to my rear. I hear the pinging sound of the empty shell casing as it is ejected from the rear of the tank's turret and smashes into the ground. I remember that it takes about five seconds for that tank model's autoloader to ram another round in the main gun's breach and ready it to fire. That's five seconds that I have to make something else happen.

I dive forward out of the trees and open fire on the dismounts until my magazine is empty. Another three victims fall in my impromptu ambush before I am forced to withdraw back into the trees. As I draw another magazine from my chest rig and slam it into my rifle I think,

_"Three more down, three left to go…"_

I hear the hunters starting to panic. The tank is still scanning wildly with its turret trying to acquire me. The crew begins to drive the beast forward. The Hunters dive for the edge of the roadway.

"He's moving to damn fast!"

"Where is he?"

"Get _Tracks_ outta here! He's only gonna get us killed."

The tank crew also seems to be growing impatient with me. The turret swings all the way to its side and begins raking the tree line with automatic fire. I crawl low, parallel to the road hoping to get a jump on the remaining three hunters who are too afraid to come after me considering what they've seen the tank just do to their friend. The ground underneath my chest rumbles as the tank's massive treads rip at the earth. The turret continues to fire its machine guns wildly into the jungle, hoping that somehow I will be hit. I guess they don't know me very well…

I crawl back to the edge of the roadway and look to my left. The three remaining hunters are huddled in a ditch, screaming in terror as the automatic fire slices through the air less than ten feet above their heads. The noise is absolutely deafening. All they can hear is the roar of the tank and the terror of their cries. _Perfect._

I quickly raise my rifle and fire right at the paralyzed hunters. All of them are dead before they know what happened. The tank continues to fire without stopping, seemingly unaware of the loss of all the dismounts.

_"Well, Ohm, should have spent just a little more and gotten an experienced tank crew…Alright, Tracks, it's just you and me…"_

There's no time to think about my own mortality. Hesitation means certain death. There are only two ways that I know of to take out a tank from the ground. Disable it at the tracks, or go for the crew. Even if I had the right amount of explosives, I don't want to destroy this prize. I plan to take it whole.

I leap to my feet and fly back across the road. _Tracks _knows something is up now and ceases its fire, spinning the turret back center and continuing to scan for its target. Before the turret can get its sights to my location, I run up the rise, spin around and take a soaring leap. I fly through the air and land precisely where I want, directly on top of the turret.

The crew inside can hear me land on top of their steel sanctuary. The gunner begins to spin the turret wildly back and forth. _Tracks_ has become a wild bull, trying to buck an unwelcome rider of its back. The driver slams on the gas, accelerating forward as fast he can. I fall to my knees but am able to grab hold of an antenna mount before I slide off the edge to be crushed by the steel treads below. I hear the hatch at the top of the turret open. The crewman inside sticks an assault rifle out the top and begins firing blindly along the sides of the vehicle, hoping to hit me with a lucky shot. I roll back and forth as bullets ricochet off the steel armor around me.

As I hear his weapon go dry with a loud "click" I raise up my own rifle and fire a burst directly into his arm which explodes into red mist. A loud scream echoes from inside the tank as his weapon drops to the ground speeding past below.

My free hand finds the last grenade on my belt and rips it free.

_"Happy Reaping Day, Mother Fuc…"_ I let the grenade fly. It gently bounces on the edge of the hatch twice like a ball on a hoop before softly dropping inside the tank.

"_BOOM!"_ The thunderous explosion inside the turret nearly knocks me to ground underneath the rolling tracks, but I hold firm.

I wait for the crew to come diving out the hatch, but _Tracks _simply rolls to an easy stop along the black road. Slowly, I climb back up onto the turret, raise my rifle to my cheek, and walk to the edge of the hatch. I can't see anything through the billowing smoke belching from inside the scorched interior.

A few deep breaths and then I jump inside. I look around and find the crew, all slumped over motionlessly at their stations…_dead_. I check the rest of the tank. Besides a few cracked screens and some superficial damage, everything inside the vehicle seems alright. One by one, I release the crew from their harnesses, haul their limp bodies out the top hatch, and dump them over the side. This is my vehicle now.

The armored weapons cases strapped to the outside of _Tracks_ prove to be a treasure trove of new resources: spare magazines, rocket launchers, ammunition, explosives, flares, additional grenades, even food and water. I'm not worried about the Shiver anymore, by the time the clouds reach here, they'll have long since broken down into harmless vapor from exposure to the air. I'm also not concerned about more hunters coming in my direction, considering I'm wrapped up in 60 tons of protection. Plus, I'm not as incompetent behind these controls as Ohm's tankers were…

My strength is fading after going non-stop since this morning, so I take my time and have my first meal in almost twenty-four hours. It's only field rations, but it feels like I'm preparing a feast. I pull out a foil packet of beans and franks and place it on the engine exhaust to warm up. As I sit in the turret hatch, waiting for my hot meal, I look back up at the sky to the holoimage of Lizzy, still trapped the aquarium. Part of me feels guilty, taking this little break while she still is faced with the rising water, but I know I'll be no good to her if I just let myself go to collapse. I need this time to plan anyway.

"Just hold on baby," I whisper towards the sky. "I'll be there soon." I reach down into the ration packet and pull out a piece of milk chocolate, Lizzy's favorite. "Don't worry," I say holding the candy towards the sky as if she could see it. "I'm saving this for you."

After retrieving my now smoking hot beans and franks, I tear open the packet, take a big spoonful, and shovel it into my mouth.

"_Obviously, Ohm isn't a culinary genius as well…" _

The taste isn't stellar, but I don't really care. It's edible and it's hot. I sit for a minute or so, chowing down on my meal, when the epiphany strikes. I should have known that this is what it would take.For some reason, my best plans are always made when I have food in my stomach.

I know exactly how I'll get into the compound: _right through the front door._ With over 1000 horse power of armor at my disposal, I definitely have momentum to work with. Now, it's just about the details. I grin from ear to ear as I realize what Ohm's state of mind must be as he hears the status report of his latest blunder. If he was afraid before, he must be terrified now because _I _am the one with the tank.


	23. The Hunted Chapter 22

I lie awake in my bunk in the empty barracks. I have been the only resident of the "R & R" center for almost a year since Juno left last fall. The first rays of light begin to stream in from the outside, bringing some color the dreary gray interior. I realize that I haven't slept a single second the entire night. The anticipation was just too much. It is dawn on the day I have been waiting for my entire life: my birthday…my _seventeenth_ birthday. There is a knock on the door which shocks me from my contemplative state. No mentor has ever taken that courtesy with me before. After all, until today I have been a suspect to be kept under lock and key: a possible threat to the security of the nation. I guess this is a sign of things to come.

"Come in," I say with a new found sense of confidence. The door opens to reveal the tall, burly form of Bruno Callus, my Head Mentor. He has always been very harsh, especially to me, but I know he is a fair man. He doesn't punish unless it is well deserved. I snap to my feet out of respect…and a little fear, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is not here to terrorize me this time.

"Relax, Ares. Sit down, please," he says with a quiet respect. This causes me to almost literally gasp. He has never, not once in the fifteen years he has been my Head Mentor, ever referred to me by my first name.

Over time, I pieced together Head Mentor Callus' story from the pieces of personal information he has let slip during his instruction. He was an orphan from District 8. His father died when he was just a young child from what the locals call "string lung." After years of breathing fabric fibers in the mills, a massive infection set in and took his life in just a few days. His mother died soon after from starvation, giving every meager food ration she had to support her two young boys. Suddenly finding himself as head of the family at age eight, he took his three year old brother to the streets before the District authorities came to put them in a worker's orphanage. Even that young, he realized that it was better to scrounge in the garbage than be forced to spend 14 hours a day weaving textiles for barely enough food to sustain life.

And so they lived for over eleven years, his beloved younger brother and him, taking whatever odd jobs they could find. When the Revolution started, both of them were some of the first to volunteer for the rebels. After the initial Capitol offensive to retake 8, his brother was killed in an airstrike. Head Mentor Callus was devastated, finally losing his only remaining family not to deprivation, but to violence. Driven forward by a desire for vengeance, he quickly climbed high in the enlisted ranks thanks to his street smarts and near suicidal courage. When the opportunity arose to join a program to "rehabilitate" the children of the former elite, he volunteered hoping for a chance to finally avenge his brother's death. However, after years of seeing hidden specks of kindness and decency peak out from under his angry exterior, I secretly believe that once he saw the scared Sixteen children standing in front of him, he couldn't put the image of his starving three-year old brother out of his mind. He then decided to "rehabilitate" us the only way he knew how: by making us strong.

I sit down carefully on my bunk, still wondering if this is some kind of ploy to really test my loyalty, but he carefully pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of me, leaning over like a father about to give his son a treasured piece of wisdom.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Never of anything more in my life, Head Mentor."

"None of the others have ever taken the path upon which you are about to embark. You will be the only one who will be able to guide you."

"I know."

"This isn't a free ride out, you know? More will be expected from you than ever before. You must become the best, the most honorable, the most tactically expert. People will look at you and see only your name. _You_ must prove to them that you are something more."

"I understand, Head Mentor."

"Nothing against you, but I don't think you quite do yet. That's alright. You will learn as you are forced to learn. The training that you will receive will give you access to the most advanced weaponry the UDP has to offer: hovercraft, guns, bombs, missiles…but in the end they're all worthless if you don't understand one simple fact."

"What is that, Head Mentor?"

"_You _must become the weapon, Ares, through hard work, discipline, study, but above all _honor_. Never, not for one second give that up, or else you'll just be continuing on the legacy that you have worked so hard to erase."

"Yes, Head Mentor."

"Alright," he says climbing to his feet. "Get ready and meet me in front hall in one hour."

It only takes me twenty minutes to shave, brush my teeth, shower, and throw on my drab blue jumpsuit that has marked me as one of the Sixteen since my arrival here all those years ago. I slowly walk to the front hall and realize that I have half an hour alone with my thoughts. Head Mentor Callus' words roll like a wave over and over again through my mind. This man, this victim of my name has faith that I can become something better than my past. If he can forgive me, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of Panem can one day forgive me as well.

The double doors that lead to the auditorium fly open causing me to jump. It is Head Mentor Callus.

"They're ready. Come with me," is all he says. It is all he has to say. Slowly, I follow him inside. I look up the stage. The nine other mentors are all lined up, in full dress uniform, all their insignia bright and polished. In front of them is a face that I recognize only from watching the news. It is Driva Holmes, the newly elected President of the United Districts of Panem.

Head Mentor Callus leads me up to the stage before taking his place directly behind the President. She points to a spot in front of her and I march to it as boldly as I can without looking brash. I stand at rigid attention as she stares me down.

"I will ask one last time, is this your final decision?"

"Yes, Madam President!"

"Do you understand that once you take this oath, that it is binding and for life? If you violate it, you will be labeled as a traitor and punished according to the laws of this nation?"

"Yes, Madam President!"

"Very well, raise your right hand and repeat after me:"

_I, Ares Snow, having been appointed an officer in the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem, do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of this Nation against all enemies. That I will dedicate my life to serving my fellow countrymen and women in honor and fidelity, and that if asked, I will willingly lay down my life to defend their rights, safety, and freedom with Fate as my judge._

I repeat every word with pride. Before I realize it, it is over. She holds out her hand.

"Congratulations." I mindlessly reach out and shake it. There it is. I am no longer an enemy of the state. Now, I am its guardian.

One by one, all the mentors come forward, shake my hand, and give me their words of encouragement, but only one man's really counts to me right now. Head Mentor Callus is the last to come up. He offers a sharp salute, which I humbly return.

"Congratulations, _Sir_," he says grabbing my hand. "Remember my advice."

_Tonight, I do._

The full moon brightly shines down on the island, illuminating everything in ghostly pale white. Guards pace nervously along the compound walls, staring out into the black jungle with their night vision glasses. Every flutter of birds' wings or cry of an animal in the blackness draws their worried attention. They nervously grip their rifles in hands that sweat through their gloves. The two corner watch towers blast their powerful searchlights through the trees scanning back and forth, but see nothing. Ohm doesn't dare step foot on the balcony overlooking the courtyard again. He won't risk a second encounter with one of my bullets.

In his place, stand another twenty armed hunters. I can only assume he has barricaded himself in the control room, standing guard next to my wife as the last few inches of air are pushed from the tube by the rising water. It is not enough to simply use his own men as human shields, but now he needs her for protection as well.

Nothing has been left to chance anymore. Extra ammunition has been issued. Shoulder launched anti-armor rockets have been assigned to everyone. All available hands have been put on watch, but even in their impregnable fortress that rests behind the three feet of reinforced concrete wall buried into the side of solid volcanic rock, no one feels safe. They all know that the final battle of this day is close at hand, but after seeing the fate of their comrades, they just don't know if they'll survive it.

Suddenly, one guard above the gate hears a distant roar from deep within the jungle. He looks forward, scanning the darkness with his night-vision glasses. He doesn't see anything at first and wonders if it's his mind playing tricks on him. No, it can't be in his head. The roar is definitely out there…and it is coming closer.

He clicks on his radio and yells into his headset. The guards and hunters spring into action. They all bring their weapons to the ready as the towers point their lights directly down the road. The roar grows louder and louder until the sound of grinding tracks joins in. The tank is coming…straight at them. The shouting begins. Orders are thrown in a hundred different directions. Finally someone takes control of the chaos and organizes the defense. They form a firing line at the front wall, anti-armor rockets armed and waiting.

Out of the darkness, _Tracks_ appears. The order is given to wait until Snow is in range. The shots must count. They wait for the inevitable firing of the tank's main gun, but it does not come. This confuses them at first. Maybe the firing controls were destroyed when he took over _Tracks_. Maybe he just doesn't know how to work them by himself. It doesn't matter. He is speeding now, building up a huge head of steam and barreling straight for the compound.

"Fire!" Ten rockets launch simultaneously, barreling straight toward the tank, but they miss. He is coming in too fast, _impossibly_ fast…and getting faster! "Reload, Reload!" The machine guns open up now, but their rounds bounce harmlessly off the tank's thick steel skin. More rockets, a few hit and cause some minor damage, but the tank is still coming. It will not stop.

"_How is he not slowing down?"_ The guards begin to ask in their minds. _"There is no way Snow can keep it under control and still stop unless…He's going to ram the gate!"_ The flash of realization hits them all at the same moment, but it is too late for most. _Tracks _continues at break-neck speed straight toward the front gate of the compound until finally…

"_CRASH!"_ Tracks slams into the heavy steel gate without slowing. The steel gives way under the punishing momentum of the behemoth. The gates fly off their hinges and into the middle of the courtyard, taking a good section of the front concrete wall with it. Helpless guards fly through the air only to be crushed by falling debris or the impact of their fall.

_Tracks_ as well is now mortally wounded. The front end is pulverized by the impact and smoke starts pouring from the engine. It slides straight forward another hundred feet, doing incredible damage as it destroys vehicles, crushes shipping containers, and sends fuel and ammunition flying until…

"_BOOM!" _The fuel and ammunition explode into a brilliant fireball that shoots five hundred feet into the air. The remaining survivors dive for cover, but quickly climb back up when they realize that the tank has come to a halt almost directly into the center of the courtyard, completely immobilized.

Ohm's last forces open fire immediately, pulverizing the tank with an unending hail of bullets, machine gun fire, and rockets until _Tracks _finally explodes into a second fireball that briefly illuminates the island war zone. The survivors stare on in disbelief.

"_It couldn't have been that easy, but it was…I guess he just finally couldn't take it anymore and made one last suicidal charge for victory. However, we made it. We survived and won…"_

It is not difficult to rig the throttle on a tank to accelerate. What's a lot harder is figuring out a way to keep it driving straight forward. Luckily, the last stretch of road before the compound was idiotically straight. A few minor adjustments to the springs on the steering yolk took care of that problem. Finally, all that was left was to set the computer on a countdown to engine start-up and then slip quietly into the jungle. _Tracks' _empty shell was enough to draw the attention of all Ohm's sensor nets directly to the road, allowing me to sneak up right to the wall. Next, the commotion and noise of the explosions gave me just enough time to scale the left guard tower and reach the top.

Tonight, _I am the weapon._

The guards are all still distracted by the burning mess down in the courtyard. The pair of tower machine gunners I find quickly fall as silent victims under my hunting knife as I slash their throats from behind. Without breaking my stride, I un-sling the rocket launcher from my back and take aim at the second tower. I pull the trigger and watch it explode into a million pieces. This sends the remaining guards into a panic. My hands find the charging handle of the machine gun and I go to work.

The hunters on the balcony are the first to fall. I slice them down in a single hail of bullets. Most land right where they stood, but an unlucky few fall screaming into the flames below. The last few wall guards are next. Some try to futilely return fire from below, but the ramparts of the tower harmlessly deflect their rounds before they too fall against my onslaught. The rest who try to run don't last long.

With my remaining rounds, I take aim at all the equipment that is left in the courtyard. I will leave nothing standing in this place. Everything is destroyed under my tidal wave of burning steel bullets. At last, the machine gun runs out of ammunition and abruptly sputters to halt, its barrels glowing bright red. The only sound left is the burning of the fires. The moonlight has been replaced by a bright orange glow.

There are no survivors out here. I have done my work. Slowly, I make my way down from the tower and into the courtyard. I walk slowly, purposefully. Ohm can see me coming, but I _want _him to see me coming. I want him to see the sight of his own death approaching like justice personified.

I'm about to walk inside his mountain fortress when his loud voice begins to echo from what's left of the wall.

"Welcome, _God of War!_"

"Rikard, I'm giving you one last chance to surrender…"

"Please, we both know that we're past that formality now. Only one of us will be breathing when the sun rises, My Dear Colonel."

"Fine, have it your way then…" Suddenly, I freeze as fifteen workers from inside the mountain come screaming outside in terror. I bring my rifle up, ready to fire, but they all run straight past me, through the flames, and out toward the shattered front wall.

"Run for your life! It's out, it's out!"

"We gotta get out of here!"

Whatever they're running from, they'd rather take their slim chances in the jungle than face whatever is in their fortress. Now, I start to feel fear creeping up inside me again. Ohm's voice returns.

"I never did show you my most prized possession, Colonel?" He says followed by a maniacal laugh. Just after I led the rebels to your grandfather's final hiding place, I found something on the floor of his green house. Surely, you remember the handkerchief he carried in his pocket to wipe the blood from his diseased mouth, don't you? Well, I've kept it all these years, and I'm happy to say that Snow's blood has finally found a good use…"

"Rikard, what have you done!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I don't have to wait long for an answer. Another technician comes screaming from the inside but doesn't make it far. He disappears in a rose-colored flash fast as lightning as a massive set of jaws flies from inside the mountain, grabs him and pulls him back inside. There are a few moments of dreadful silence, followed by a deafening rattle.

"There are many things I remember about old Coriolanus, My Dear Colonel, but two stand out in my mind the most. The first was his everlasting love of roses, and the second was his piercing _snake_-like eyes. I merely had to combine the two to make a brilliantly poetic living weapon. Your wife and….well, I guess I should say just _I _will enjoy watching you die."

I have never seen a muttation in real life…until tonight. The UDP banned them as being crimes against humanity. Now, I see why. From inside the mountain crawls a massive rattlesnake, over fifty feet long and at least three feet wide. It slithers toward me with a sickening sound and its scales are colored a hideous rose-pink. As it sees my face, the target that it was born to kill, it rears back and towers into the air. The snake's mouth opens wide to reveal its two- foot long fangs dripping with deadly poison. It lets out a long, violent hiss and its gigantic tail rattles with delight.

I instantly recognize the beast's eyes. I've seen them all my life in films, posters, pictures, on my old punching bag in the _Spym_…but most of all, in my nightmares. They are the eyes of my grandfather, President Coriolanus Snow.


	24. The Hunted Chapter 23

"Combat is not a fair fight!" Head Mentor Callus screams at the top of his lungs. His words echo off the bare walls of the gymnasium and back into our ears. The ten of us that remain in the "R & R" Center are seated in a semi-circle surrounding a large mat laid out in the center of the floor. He stands in the middle of it, continuing his lecture. "If you think for one moment that the winner of a battle is determined solely on size and strength alone, you've already lost. Size _does not_ matter. If you know that you cannot compete with your opponent's physical power, than you must take the fight to the next level. You must _outthink_ him. You must _deceive_ him. If he thinks that you're going to go right, then go left. If he thinks that you're going to go up, then go down. Find his weakness and exploit it. That is the secret to victory. It goes to the person who is willing to find it rather than expect that it will just come on its own."

I am nine years old, still the youngest and smallest of the group. However, due to my particular pedigree, I always find myself volunteered to be Head Mentor Callus' sparring partner in hand-to-hand combat training. I think he likes to use me to make his points to the others…or just beat up on me. Sometimes, I can't tell.

"Snow, get up here!" I slowly rise to my feet and make way to the center of the mat. "Hurry up, I don't have all day." This is _definitely _not a fair fight. I stand toe to toe with him and barely come to his waist. He probably also has a good 150 pounds on me. The others giggle as they anticipate what will happen. "Shut up, all of you or you'll be next," he screams to silence them. "Alright, come at me, Snow." It doesn't escape my attention just how ridiculous this is. I ready myself for brutal pain as I charge forward, swinging my tiny fists. The only answer I receive is a blow directly to my face which sends me backwards into the ground. My eyes begin to tear and my nose starts to swell, but I climb back up and charge forward again.

This time I try to hold my skinny arms in front of my head and tuck my chin. It works for a few seconds, but eventually Head Mentor Callus punches my stomach. I crumple in a heap to the mat and pull my knees to the fetal position as he continues to rain blows down on me.

"Dammit, Snow! Did you not hear a single word I said?" he yells, ceasing his barrage. "If you try to fight a frontal assault on a superior enemy, you will get destroyed every time. It's not about luck or chance. Its gonna happen." He grabs my arm and pulls me back up to my feet. I am definitely crying now, and the others will make my life miserable for it later, but to his credit, Head Mentor Callus doesn't a say thing. He merely drops down to my eye level and speaks directly at my face, one on one. "Think Snow, what do you have that I don't? How can you use it against me?"

He gets back up and walks ten feet away from me. "When you have your answer, attack me again."

I think hard to myself, trying to block out the pain of my previous injuries.

_"He's big, really big. And I am small. How is he big? He's tall, so for him to hit me, he has to bend over. When people are bending over…they can't balance as well…"_ I have my answer.

"Ok, Head Mentor. I'm ready."

"Then come on." I charge straight forward as fast as I can, not giving any indication of trying to protect myself. He balls up his fist for a huge blow, but just as he swings down toward me, I drop down to the mat, slide across its smooth vinyl surface and go directly between his legs. He has leaned so far forward trying to strike at me that he has to steady himself. It is all the opportunity I need.

I spin around and kick as hard as I can to the back of his knees. His legs give out and he falls forward hard. I jump up and latch onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as I can. However, just as I think I've won, he grabs my arm and flips me off his back to the mat so that I am staring directly into face. He pins me down with his massive left hand as he raises his right fist for a death blow. I wince expecting to be knocked out cold, but he slowly lowers his arm and extends his hand to help me up. I grab for it and find myself hoisted back onto my feet.

"Not bad, Snow," he says with an approving grin. "You're finally starting to think like a warrior."

Now, sixteen years later, as I stare up into the snake's hate-filled eyes, cringing at the sound of this beast's demon-like hiss, I once again find myself in an unfair fight.

"_Guess I need to start thinking like a warrior pretty fast…"_

I raise my rifle and fire a snap burst at the snake's head to see what effect Ohm's magic bullets have on muttation snakeskin. Unfortunately, the answer is not a lot. A few of the rounds pierce through, but the beast is so massive that he barely notices a few pin pricks. He shakes his rattle again and I realize all I have done is just make it angrier.

"Nice try. You better run, Colonel," Ohm's voice echoes from around the courtyard. "I don't think he likes you very much…" A split second after the words finish, I see the snake coil up and lunge forward with incredible speed directly at me. I roll hard to the left as the snake's fangs miss me by just a few inches. The snake recoils back around to prepare for a second strike, but I am already moving toward the flames.

It's very rare that a fun fact from seventh grade biology class saves your life, but today is one of those days. I remember that snake's eyes can only detect infrared energy…_heat_.

"_If I run around the burning debris in the courtyard, he won't be able to see me…"_

The snake shoots along the ground right on my tail, but as soon as I move around _Tracks'_ flaming hull, the beast slows to a stop and shakes its rattle angrily. It seems my memory is still good. The snake is confused as his eyes scan back and forth through the flames, searching for me. I continue to run in between burning piles of ammunition crates and fuel tanks before looking back at my adversary. For a few seconds, he considers his options, but soon he rears back up. I see his nostrils flare and then he begins to slither forward again.

"_Great, it looks like he can still smell me."_

The snake continues to creep forward in my direction, but his hesitation as he continues to sniff the air gives me just enough time to start to size him up.

"_Alright, Ares, what is this thing's weakness? Think! He's very large, but still extremely fast. I can stay around the flames for a little while, but eventually he'll get close enough to detect me with that nose of his and then I'll be his dinner anyway. Bullets aren't going to stop him, but what about an explosion?"_ I reach down to my belt. Luckily I remembered to grab more grenades off of _Tracks_. "_Good, but not good enough. He would just slither away before the grenade did any real damage. No, it would be almost like the explosion would have to be from the inside of him…"_ Suddenly, I have an idea. I just need to figure out one thing._ "I gotta get him still, if only for a few seconds. Now, how am I going to do that?"_ I look back towards the remains of the front concrete wall. The center of it is in ruins; the edges are intact but cracked. _"There it is."_

Suddenly, I know the snake's weakness. To him, I'm just a tiny, helpless rodent, and he's just a normal rattlesnake going after his prey. He doesn't know how big or powerful he is. How do you kill a rattlesnake? _You take its head clean off._ Why should I have thought this one would be any different? The muttation doesn't know that I can outsmart him, and I think that will be his downfall.

I run straight towards the crumbling wall. When I reach the barrier, I grab my rifle and bang it loudly against the concrete.

"Over here, you bastard!" I yell as loud as I can. The beast senses my vibrations. I see his eyes grow wide and his nostrils flare again. He begins rattling wildly as he thinks he has me cornered. He is a fearsome sight right now. The glowing flames reflect off his rosy scales and the massive slits in his eyes. I am so terrified that I begin to tremble, but I hold firm considering I only have one shot. He won't fall for this twice, and even if he did, Ohm would never let him repeat that mistake.

The beast slithers straight through the burning wreckage and takes his place directly in front of me.

"C'mon. I'm right here. Just do it," I spit at him. He rears up into the sky once more, readying himself for the death strike. I remember being nine years old, staring down Head Mentor Callus.

"_It's the same thing," _I repeat over and over again to myself. _"I just don't get to be lifted off the mat if I fail." _The snake strikes forward, jaws open wide. I see his fangs ready to impale me with their poison, but just before they find their target, I roll forward and to the left, passing directly underneath him. His head slams against the concrete with almost as much force as _Tracks. _A large piece of wall breaks free and falls directly on top of his face. The snake lurches backward reflexively, but he is stunned…just as I had hoped for. His jaw drops down loosely and he begins to move his head back and forth wildly trying to find where I disappeared to. Finally, his head spins around and he finds me behind him. He shows his fangs again, but his slowed reflexes give me just the right amount of time. I pull out a grenade and heave it directly into his open mouth. A split second later, the explosion slices through the muttation's neck and separates the head from the body.

The writhing mass of glistening rose scales continues to reflexively twitch and shake the rattle, but I look into the snake's eyes, _my grandfather's eyes_, and see them finally glaze over. Slowly, I come around behind the severed neck, stick my rifle into the bloody stump, and pull the trigger; blowing the snake's brains out through its face. I've done it. I've finally killed the last living bit of Coriolanus Snow.

The beast is gone, but there is no yelling or celebration. There is still work to be done. I walk toward the open doorway leading to the mountain. As I pass the body of a fallen hunter, I kneel down, check his belt and pull out an access card. There are no words of anger or fear from Ohm this time. His best chance at survival has failed. His army is destroyed. His fortress lies in ruins. It is just Lizzy, him, and me.

I walk into the mountain, scanning down the hallways. Soon, I begin to recognize the area where my cell was. I purposefully retrace my steps till I find myself face to face with the entrance to the control room. Ohm hasn't sealed it. He knows the showdown will be here and now. I swipe the card across the lock plate, the double doors slide open, and I step inside.


	25. The Hunted Chapter 24

"Drop your weapons now!" Ohm screams from the control panel next to Lizzy's tube. Inside, she holds her head up, gasping at the last few breaths of air as the water is about to finally overtake her. I take a split second to scan for any hidden dangers. The room is empty, the hunters and guards all fell in the courtyard and the last technicians fled when Ohm released the muttation. It is just the three of us.

"I said drop your weapons!" Ohm holds his finger over a blue button on the control panel. "Do it now or I'll pump enough concentrated liquid Shiver into your mermaid's aquarium to melt her skin off. I know you've seen what it can do, Colonel." _Subject E's _gruesome final gaze passes through my brain. I immediately drop the magazine from my rifle, eject the round from the chamber, and throw the weapon to the ground. "Everything!"

I slowly unbuckle the rest of my gear and throw it away from me. I raise my hands to the air to show him that I am completely disarmed. Ohm is twitching, panic is laced through every word. "Good, good…" he mutters.

"So what now, Rikard?" I ask calmly. I know I'm running out of time. Lizzy probably has less than a minute of air left.

"Nothing has changed, My Dear Colonel," Ohm stammers through his sentence. "Nothing at all. You still have to make your choice. Watch her die before you run and try to kill me with your bare hands or kill yourself to save her. I'm perfectly all right with either option!" Clearly he's lost touch with reality.

"I think there's a third choice, Rikard. You calmly let Lizzy go and surrender. I will ensure that you receive a fair trial for your actions. I'll even testify on your behalf that they were the result of years of psychological trauma and that your service should be taken into account in your sentence."

"And spend the rest of my life in a detention center? Still a slave, just to a new government that claims it knows best! No, Ares. This ends _now_."

Lizzy pushes herself up to the top of the tube. As the water finally covers her face, she lets out one final plea. "Ares! I love you. _Get him!_ Get him, just don't forget me..." Then she is under. I know from experience that I just over a minute before she passes out.

A grin creeps across my face. This enrages Ohm.

"What exactly are you grinning about? Your love is dying. I've won!"

"She can hear us through the tube…"

"Of course she can!"

"And the plastic is thin enough so that I can hear her…"

"Stop speaking in riddles, Snow!" Ohm is screaming through his Reevox collar. I pause as I ready myself.

"That plastic isn't bullet-proof, _is it_?" Ohm's eyes grow wide as dinner plates as I make my move. It is the fastest I have ever drawn a pistol. I reach back behind my waist, pull the gun from my belt, and fire a round directly through Ohm's arm. His right bicep explodes, blowing his hand away from the control panel and knocking him backwards into the ground. I quickly fire two more shots straight through the tube, shattering it into a million pieces and sending a tidal wave of water pouring into the control room. Lizzy collapses onto the floor above me.

I go to my gear, draw the hunting knife, and walk up the steel steps. Lizzy lies in a soaking wet heap. I run over to see if she is alright. Immediately, I can smell her beautiful scent in the air and it feels like the weight of the entire planet has been pulled from my shoulders. She is unconscious, but breathing normally. I let myself steal one soft kiss to her cheek before I gently lay her down and go to finish my other unpleasant business.

Ohm lies just a few away, bleeding profusely from the useless stump of his right arm. He crawls along through the slime of bloody water in shock, but I grab his shoulder, throw him onto his back and hold my knife to his throat.

He looks up at me with his sky-blue eyes and grins, almost in delight.

"It seems I was wrong, My Dear Colonel, he chokes out. "I guess there was a third choice after all, but it doesn't involve my surrender…_Do it_" he challenges with gritted teeth.

"You're a monster!"

"Perhaps, but how appropriate for one monster to slay another. Claim your birthright, Snow."

"How can you say that after everything's that's happened? After everything you've done? You violated the trust of everyone around you. You built a private army that killed innocent people at will. Do you even remember what happened when you actually ordered the use of Shiver on another human being? Do you remember the Avox girl, _Subject E?_ Do you even remember telling her grotesque corpse, 'I'm sorry?' Yet you still used a weapon of death here that was too gruesome even for the Council of 10 to tolerate! And you still call me a monster?"

"Of course I do," he begins to shiver from shock and blood loss. "Because you yourself think that you're a monster. You've sold your soul to the UDP because you feel that if you don't selflessly serve every second of your life that you'll make them think you want to return yourself to power. Every time you walk out in public, you always ask yourself the question, 'Do they recognize something of their old tyrant in me?' probably because you recognize it in yourself. You even childishly rip the name off your uniform every time you walk outside not because you're afraid of what others will think, but because _you_ are afraid to face it!"

My entire body drops as I realize that he is correct.

"Yes, it all becomes clear now, Colonel…and to answer your previous inquiry, yes I remember the Avox girl. In fact, I knew _Subject E_ very well. She was my predecessor in personal service to old Coriolanus. It's just I'm surprised you don't know her, considering she was family…"

"What are you talking about?"

"So, I guess Old Snow was successful in keeping that little piece of information out of the Peacekeeper Archives. Yes, her name was Medea…_Medea Snow,_ or at least it was until Coriolanus had it taken away, along with her power of speech."

"You're lying!"

"You don't believe that it would be something he was capable of? She was his half-sister. His father Nero had her with his mistress after he became bored of his wife, Snow's mother. Rumor in the Council was that Medea was Nero's favorite to succeed him after his death. He thought that she was, "more intelligent" than his first-born legitimate son. After Nero died very suddenly under somewhat mysterious circumstances, it wasn't long before Medea found herself strapped to a surgeon's table. If I can say one thing for old Cory, it was that he always liked to act very quickly when threatened."

"If what you're saying is true, then why go through all the trouble of making her an Avox before gassing her to death? Why didn't he just kill her?"

"Because, Ares, she apparently had other talents to Snow's liking. Certainly, you've heard about his little, shall we say, _interesting_ sexual desires?" My hand begins to tremble around the knife handle as I feel the desire to throw up. The idea crosses my mind just to slit his throat now and end this horrible little lesson in my family's depraved history, but I stop myself. "One day, I guess little Medea grew tired of her brother trying to drunkenly fondle her and she slapped him across the face. Coriolanus then decided to teach her a lesson she would never forget..."

"Why are you telling me this!"

"I thought you wanted to know how I could use such horrible weapons, yet still call you the monster? The answer is simple: because Coriolanus ordered me to create it to kill his own sister…._his own family_. The images you saw were not a weapons test, they were an execution! Shiver's only intended victims have ever been named Snow. I figured I'd just complete the chain."

_"He's right: Medea, myself…and Lizzy."_

"You told me before you though I was a good man because I refused to create Snow's missile to save the lives of everyone in the country. Well, I hate to disappoint, but the real reason is far more selfish, My Dear Colonel. I knew that if Snow was willing to use horrible weapons such as those on his own family, then he wouldn't hesitate to use them on mine. How ironic then that I lost them as a result.

So, now that we've covered the bases, unless there are any other burning questions you would like answered, why don't we just skip the formalities and you finish what your grandfather started?" He is ready to die, and for a brief second, I am ready to oblige. But as I raise the knife, I remember everything: Head Mentor Callus, Venus, Lizzy, Annie, Katniss and Peeta, all of them flash through my mind at once and I slowly lower the knife."

"What are you waiting for? DO IT!"

"No, Rikard, because you're right, I have always been afraid of what lies inside of me. But thanks to your little Games, I think I have a better idea now. I am not Coriolanus Snow, or Venus Snow, or even Medea Snow…I am _Ares_ Snow!" I say throwing the knife away. Ohm grits his teeth in anger.

"No! You have to kill me!" The high pitched wine of his artificial voice screeches in my ears.

"I'm not going to kill you Rikard, but I will finish one thing that my grandfather started. I'm going to take your voice." My hand reaches down and rips the Reevox Collar from around his throat. Suddenly mute again, he offers no protest as I raise it up and strike him across the temple with its metal surface, knocking him out.

I stand to my feet, and walk back over to Lizzy. As carefully as if I was holding a newborn, I cradle her soaking wet body in my arms and try to think of the way that I can most gently wake her.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the piece of chocolate. I waft it under her nose for a few seconds and slowly start to see her eyes flutter.

"There's my Lizzy," I say with a smile as she comes around. She stares up at me for a few seconds with her sea green eyes, the most beautiful eyes that I have ever seen. "Sorry, in all the commotion, in melted in my pocket." She laughs.

"So, with all the disaster and destruction raining down around you, you still found a way to bring me chocolate?"

"I have my ways…"

"I knew you'd come for me."

"Really? I thought you told me run away and save myself?" I say through my lingering smile.

"Well, ok, I _hoped _you come for me." We both laugh this time. Finally, we just silently stare at each other with grateful faces for a few seconds. She is not grateful that I saved her, and I am not grateful that she saved me. We are both grateful that we saved each other. "Well," Lizzy says breaking the silence. "What are you waiting for?" Our lips meet in a kiss that is so full of love and passion that it would be a crime to try to describe it in words. It is the first truly perfect moment of my life.

I manage to contact the Ministry using Ohm's radios. Holmes and Sturm already have Strike Teams on station in hovercraft off the coast of District 1. It takes them less than two hours to reach the island.

_"I'll have to remember to thank them one day…"_

I move Lizzy out to the courtyard. She smiles as she sees the sunrise light up the sky.

"It's the first time I've seen the sun in person since he brought me here. For a little while, I thought I might not ever see it again." Soon, she falls asleep in my arms. I let her rest. She's had a rough couple of days.

I pass the time by trying to make sense of what happened here, until I realize it may be impossible. I turn Ohm's bloody Reevox collar over and over again in my hands. I wonder if he was always this evil or if he was just made that way by someone else?

_"No, it doesn't really matter," _I finally realize in another quiet epiphany._ "Evil can be within us all. It's what we choose to be at the beginning of every new day that really matters."_

When I hear the roar of the approaching hovercraft, I pull out a flare and launch it into the sky. The pilot artfully maneuvers it inside the remains of the compound and sets it down directly in front of us. Before the ramp has even finished dropping, Lizzy and I are surrounded by heavily armed commandos. I brief the leader on Ohm and his team rushes inside to secure him.

I don't even let the medics touch me before they load Lizzy onboard. In just a few minutes, she is safely in the craft's sickbay. As another medic is just finishing placing a pressure dressing on my arm, the commando team returns.

"Where's Ohm?" I shout at the team leader. "Is he still alive?"

"Sir," he yells back over the roar of the hovercraft's engines, "We checked the entire complex. It's empty. There's nobody here but us."


	26. The Hunted Chapter 25

After landing back at the Ministry, Lizzy and I were taken straight to Capitol Memorial Hospital. We haven't left in two days. Even though the doctors cleared me for release after only a few hours, they insisted on keeping Lizzy for observation. The staff seems to be running every test imaginable. Both of us are becoming increasingly frustrated as she is constantly insisting that she is perfectly fine, but they will not let her go.

I only leave her bedside for a few minutes at a time, mostly just to get some air out on the building's rooftop garden. Being outside in the open seems to calm the "fight or flight" reflex that is still hanging around in the back of my mind. The rest of the time is spent reconnecting with my wife, talking about our experiences, and basically discussing where we will go from here.

The doctors made us both sit down with a psychologist for a full evaluation. Lizzy was especially annoyed considering this was her profession, but as always, she was kind and cordial through the whole process. I am afraid that I was not as obliging. The things I experienced will be with me the rest of my life. The few hours of sleep that I do manage to get are already filled with nightmares. I soon realize that the only place I feel safe enough to close my eyes is when I'm next to Lizzy's bedside. I keep picturing Ohm's snake attacking her, sinking his fangs into her chest, and then consuming her as I stand by helplessly; Ohm's disgusting artificial laughter is echoing through the background, never leaving my ears. The dream always ends the same way: I bolt awake with a stifled scream and stare through the darkness for a few seconds, trying to remember in my disoriented stupor where I am. It is only as my eyes adjust, and Lizzy's sleeping silhouette appears, I finally feel like myself again. Of course, when the shrink asked me if I was having trouble sleeping, I completely denied it. She knew I was probably lying, but I don't care. I know my life will never be the same, and that is something that I want to deal with on a personal level.

Probably the worst part of this whole ordeal is not knowing what happened to Ohm. After I informed President Holmes about his betrayal, the whole Defense Force was ordered to completely change every single security code and protocol, but the damage might have already been done. It seems impossible that he would be able to survive in his wounded state for very long considering how frail he already seemed, but I know that until his body is recovered or he is captured, anything could happen

Late on the evening of the third day, I sit in my usual chair next to Lizzy's hospital bed. We had talked for a few hours after dinner as the nurses were finishing their checks for the night. She told me besides bringing us even closer together, the other positive that this mess has taught her is that she now understands how difficult things must have been for Annie. Lizzy's trauma only lasted a few days while her aunt's lasted for years.

"My work has now become even more urgent," she said to me. If people are going through what I am right now, I have to find a way to ease their pain because I can't stand it myself." That's my wife, ever the optimist and healer. I suppose we're a perfect couple in a twisted sort of way. I am warrior, she is a peacemaker: the perfect balance.

Soon after that, Lizzy fell into a restless slumber. I am beginning to worry a little myself about her. She has seemed much more exhausted lately. Maybe the doctors know something I don't. My eyelids refuse to close despite my best efforts. Besides the fact that I don't want the chance of another nightmare, I'm worried that she might be having dreams worse than mine. It is true, Ohm tried to kill me in a thousand different ways, but torture is a helpless feeling that is far worse than being merely threatened with death. It is not until I see her calm down and drift into a quiet stillness that I am able to even consider sleep. However, just before my eyes close, I sense someone watching me in the doorway.

I turn around and am confronted with a face that I really don't want to deal with.

"What are you doing here, Finnick?" I admit, I could have been a little more welcoming than this initial chilly greeting. He stares right back at me with his trademark Odair green eyes.

"_There definitely not as nice as Lizzy's,"_ I can't help but think. _"At least hers aren't filled with contempt."_

"It's always a pleasure to see your face, too, Ares," he shoots back sarcastically. "Lizzy, called me last night while you were getting some air. I caught the first train from District 4. There's something I had to do."

"Look, this is a hospital. If you want to fight, let's at least go outside first. I don't want to wake her up."

"I'm not here to fight you, Ares." This takes me by genuine surprise.

"Then why are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? My cousin was kidnapped, tortured, and nearly killed! I'm here because she needs me. I really appreciate the your sentiment that I care more about punishing you than helping take care of her. I love her _too_, you know."

"_Alright, something's up." _This is the first time he's ever insinuated that what I have for Lizzy is genuine love. After all, to love requires you to be a decent human being first.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it," he pauses for a brief second. "Actually, I admit that I did want to talk to you as well, but can we do it in the hallway? I don't want to risk her hearing this."

"Alright." I climb from my chair and follow him out of the room. Finnick looks like he's going through a genuine quandary in his mind right now. I am intrigued and concerned at the same time. "What's up?"

"I suppose…that I….owe you…an apology."

"For what?"

"Lizzy told me what you did. How you had the chance to run away and let her die, but didn't. And more importantly, you had the chance to take the easy way out, get killed, and leave her to the hands of that mutilating bastard, but instead you chose to risk everything to save her."

"Of course, I would risk everything to save her. I love her more than my life, Finnick."

"Right…"

"You see, that's what I never understood. Why have you refused to believe for all these years how we feel about each other?"

"That's not it all, Ares. Of course I've known how much she loved you. I knew it the first time that I ever saw her look at you. I know my cousin. She's like my sister."

"So, I've heard you say…" I say as I remember the phone call from last week.

"Sorry," I say as I realize that he's making a genuine effort to reconcile and that I should use a little more tact that I'm used to. "Go on."

"I suppose the reason I never wanted to accept you is that I would have to let go of something that I've always known…"

"And what is that, Finnick?"

"_Hate_. Your grandfather tortured my parents, killed my father, and drove my mother insane. When it was all said and done, he never really faced justice. He just died _laughing _like it was part of his plan all along. Then, out of the blue, my cousin falls in love with you, decides to get married, and make you part of the family. I guess I was worried that if I accepted you, then I would have to let my disgust of President Snow go as well."

He sounds so much like Ohm right now, but there is a real difference I notice immediately: Finnick Odair Jr. doesn't _want _to hate me anymore. He knows that I am a decent person and desires to let me in because he knows that I love Lizzy just as much as he does. I think he just needs one last thing to help him along to that place of reconcilation: my affirmation that his feelings are correct.

"I'm not my grandfather, Finnick, and I don't mean that as an insult to your intelligence. I just mean that you can accept a man named Snow into your family without forgiving another man named Snow. Lord knows, I will never forgive him either." I see a grin of understanding creep across Finnick's face. "I'd also be honored if you stayed with Lizzy until she recovers. After all, you're _family_." He actually manages a laugh.

"Thank you, Ares."

"So, are we alright now?"

"Not quite," he balls up his fist and strikes me hard across the face, sending me backwards into the wall. I stand back straight rubbing my jaw.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Just something I've wanted to do for years." He holds out his hand. "Now, we're alright." I chuckle as I shake his hand and finally make peace with Finnick Odair Jr.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" We both turn to see President Holmes walking up to us.

"No, Ma'am," I say innocently.

"I'm going to go sit with Lizzy and let the important people talk business," Finnick says a little smugly as he quickly steps back toward Lizzy's room.

"Another old friend of yours, Colonel?" she asks.

"Not just a friend, Ma'am: an old member of my family suddenly becoming a new one." President Holmes grins understandingly. "So, what brings you here, Madam President? I realize that you must be busy right now doing damage control."

"Just wanted to see how you two were doing."

"We're doing just fine. I don't understand why they're keeping us here so long though." President Holmes' grin grows even larger. This sparks my attention. I hate the feeling that someone knows something I don't.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"I don't think it will be a problem. I just spoke with the head physician assigned to your cases and he says you'll be able to take Lizzy home tomorrow evening. I'll have him come over to give you the details."

"That's a relief."

"Also, Colonel Snow, speaking of damage control, I've reconsidered your indefinite leave of absence. There's a lot to discuss about what has happened and what our plan of action should be. I'd like to hear your version of the events from you directly. Can I trouble you to come in tomorrow morning for a debriefing?" I feel _very_ vindicated right now and it feels good.

"I'll be there bright and early, Ma'am."

"Good, I'll see you then." She turns to walk away but pauses for a second. "Oh, and Colonel Snow…"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Congratulations," she says with satisfaction as she leaves. Now, I'm really annoyed.

"_What the hell was that about?" _

A few minutes later, the doctor finds me with Finnick in Lizzy's room and asks to speak to me privately. Finnick graciously excuses himself and steps outside. The doctor briefly examines some notes on his chart before he begins:

"I'm sorry to keep your wife here so long, Colonel Snow. It must have been very inconvenient but we wanted to make sure that with all the trauma and stress she's been through, that there was no permanent damage. Frankly, I'm amazed."

"Amazed about what?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I'm shocked she didn't lose the baby."

"WHAT?"

He looks at me incredulously. "You mean you didn't know?"

"Are you sure?" I ask in disbelief.

"Absolutely, as soon as we saw her blood work. I guess we just assumed that you two had already found out. My apologies."

I have to lean on my chair for support. The realization hits me in the face harder than Finnick just did:

_My wife is pregnant…_and I couldn't be happier.


	27. The Hunted Chapter 26

Amelia the analyst comes to the final points of her brief.

"To summarize, we've managed to re-encrypt the entire Defense Net, but there is only so many changes to the code we can make, considering Ohm helped design it."

"It will have to be enough," General Sturm says with a bit of annoyance.

"What about his assets?" I ask to President Holmes.

"I've ordered the Central Bank to freeze his accounts, his factory has been seized, and we've placed data taps across the entire Information Net to search if any of his personal access codes are ever used. If he's still alive, he won't have any resources at his disposal."

"He managed to find a way back to the top before," I wouldn't count him out just yet.

"He's a sixty-year old mute stranded in the middle of the ocean with only one arm and half a blood supply if what you've told us is accurate, Colonel Snow," General Sturm says laughing.

"A man like him always thinks three steps ahead, Sir," I respond. "He must have had a way off that island and I don't think we've seen the last of him."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"It's the feeling I have in my gut, Sir."

"Which I suppose I need to learn to respect more," he gives me a grin, the first I've ever seen from him in my direction that didn't immediately follow some kind of insult. "Just be sure you don't let that go to your head, Snow."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir."

"One last thing, Colonel," President Holmes says to me. "With the _departure_ of Mr. Ohm, it seems the UDP is in need of a new Chief of Special Defense. After discussing it with General Sturm, we would like to offer you the position."

"Isn't that a civilian position, Ma'am?"

"Yes, but I assure you that you would remain an important member of the Defense Community, and it would be a _substantial_ increase in pay and benefits. All of us here agree that you have fulfilled your obligation to the military and to the nation. You have nothing left to prove to anyone."

I stare at them in disbelief for a few moments.

_"You have nothing left to prove to anyone."_ The words hit me like a hammer. I've finally done it: I've shown them that they can trust me, but it's not the relief that I've been searching for all these years.

"With all due respect to your incredibly generous offer, Madam President, I'm afraid I will have to decline."

"What?" she says as if I was insane.

"I think I'm not quite done proving myself to everyone…

"Who's left?"

"Me."

"I don't understand, Colonel."

"I'm not interested in wealth or position. I just want to be able to look at myself in the mirror every morning and say that I'm doing everything I can to be the best man I can be, not just for myself, but for my wife…_and my child_." The image of my great-aunt Medea being strapped to a chair in the gas chamber enters my mind. Ohm's revelation that she was killed at her own brother's hand for the sole reason of increasing his grip on Panem has been burning like an ember in my consciousness for days. "There are still people left in this country who live with the demons of the past. They are afraid that the ideals born in the Revolution will fail; that once a few gain enough money and power, tyrants will send us back to the days when we were slaves to the greed and lust of a few: when dictators made us kill our children for their own sick entertainment. It's for those who are afraid that I want to continue to fight. Right now, I don't think I can do that by discovering new technological terrors, but only by wearing this uniform."

Everyone sitting around me stares back in silence. I hope that what I've just said makes sense to someone else besides me. But soon, the approving looks from their faces let me know that I have been heard.

"Very well, Colonel Snow," President Holmes says. "Panem is honored to have men like you fighting for it."

"Thank you, Madame President."

The meeting begins to break up. President Holmes congratulates me one more time before heading to the door. I gather my notes and prepare to leave until Amelia walks over and leans toward me.

"It's good to have you back, safe and sound, Sir."

"Thank you." She smiles from ear to ear before excusing herself back to her station. I look over to see General Sturm walking towards me as well.

"Watch it, Snow, you're a married man with a child on the way."

"Oh, she's just a friend, Sir." He takes the seat right next to mine. I know whatever he's about to say is something he doesn't want anyone else to hear.

"Did you know that I was on the committee that came up with the "R &R" program?"

"No, Sir."

"There was a great split in the leadership of the rebellion during the first days of the interim government. There was going to be one more Hunger Games, a way to seek final justice against the children of the elite, but after the assassination of President Coin, the idea failed."

"Why?"

"Because of what you just said back there…people were afraid that we would go back to the old ways, just with new tyrants. However, we knew that we couldn't just let you go, and a solution had to be found that wouldn't cost us our souls."

"So I suppose I owe you a great deal of gratitude, Sir?"

"Hardly…"

"Why is that?"

"Because I was the committee's one dissenting vote…I _wanted _another Games…and for that I am so sorry." He looks into my eyes to see a reaction, hoping that his inadvertent olive branch doesn't backfire. After a few seconds, I finally respond.

"You don't owe me an apology, Sir. I understand."

"Well, that's surprising," he says bemusedly.

"I'm not talking about the idea of us killing each other, Sir. I mean I understand now what it's like to face the death of someone who you love so much. To look their attacker in the eye, and want with every fiber of your being to watch them suffer and die."

"Then why didn't you kill Ohm when you had the chance?"

"Because, Sir, I knew that if I fell to those impulses, I would no longer be the man who was fighting for the right side in the first place. I would just be another petty tyrant out for revenge."

I can see the guilt still lingering in his face. He doesn't know what to say at first and merely looks down at the ground.

"You really are a better man than me, Snow…"

"No, Sir, I'm just a man who loved someone very special…just like you loved Lucia." Hearing me speak her name draws a reaction that I never expected to see from the hardened eyes of General Sturm:_ tears_.

"Tell me, Snow, honestly, do you think she would be happy with who I became?" I stare directly at his face as I answer.

"Yes, Sir, not only because you fought for something that she believed in, not only because you fought for your country for so long, but because you fought _for her_…" I hold my hand out in friendship. He reaches over and grabs it hard.

Careful to wipe the tears from his eyes before he gets up from the table, he walks away toward the door.

"Colonel Snow," he says abruptly turning back.

"Yes Sir."

"There's something else you need to know…the idea for the Hunger Games with Capitol children was Coin's idea. Before her death, the rebel leaders decided to place the decision in the hands of the seven surviving Victors. Three voted 'no' including Annie Odair." He pauses carefully, as if he's afraid he is about to reveal something that will destroy me. "Four voted 'yes' including your Mockingjay…" I look down to the floor in shock. "I know you loved and admired her, but…"

"Sir, I forgive her. In fact, I forgive _all_ of them…including you."

He nods approvingly as if he sees that his new faith is justified.

"Good," he says quietly. "Now, just work on forgiving yourself."

I leave the Ministry early for the first time in weeks. Finnick is waiting for me at the hospital to help take Lizzy home. There is much work to be done, and I smile as I realize there is only nine months to do it. As the elevator approaches the lobby, I check my uniform out of habit. I make sure that all of the insignia are straight and polished. I make sure that my flag is neat and clean on my shoulder. Then, I look down to my nametag. The word, _"Snow" _stares back up at me in bright, yellow letters. As the doors open, I walk straight out into the lobby and hold my chest high for everyone to see.


	28. The Hunted Chapter 27

Over a year has passed since Ohm's Games. Much has changed, but much has not. I stare out at the glorious Shenandoah Valley: its green peaks covered with peaceful forest. What has always been the escape of Katniss has soon become mine as well in the months since we first began to come to District 12 regularly. The warm spring breezes feel reinvigorating. They calm me down almost as much as my new family does. I need this place now for the nightmares still come at night. Lizzy has even admitted to me that she is haunted by terrifying visions in her sleep as well. Sometimes, I am the one who awakens to her terrified screams in the dark, others it is she who must wrap her warms around me to blunt the sting of the cold sweat on my skin after I snap back into consciousness after slaying long dead opponents.

I look over to her now; playing a careless game of tag with little Prim and Haymitch Mellark. You would never know from her smiles and laughter that she was the same terrified woman trapped in Ohm's terror device such a short time ago. The smell of freshly baked bread from the kitchen in Victor's Village hangs in the air and mixes perfectly with the scent of roasting venison on the barbecue grill. Peeta tends the coals with same careful attention that he pays to his oven and his art. Apparently, he has become quite skilled over the years in preparing what Katniss brings home in her game bag.

Prim and Haymitch's innocent laughter is like a salve that is helping to heal my scarred mind. The children are blissfully ignorant of the terrible things that can happen in the world, and I love them for that. Their parents have taught them what the Games were, but they are just stories, much like the boogey-man under the bed. I think this is why Katniss and Peeta have allowed us to get so close to them, and why Lizzy and I will allow the Mellarks so close to our children: It makes the lessons of the past more real. Hopefully, the next generations will learn from our tragedies instead of having to experience their own. This reasoning is why I have insisted that Lizzy and I start visiting here so often. This particular trip, however, is extremely special because it is the first time that we have brought a third little member of our clan.

Katniss peacefully sits in a chair, watching Lizzy play with Prim and Haymitch, while holding a sleeping bundle in her arms. It is my infant son, Octavian. When he was born, both Lizzy and I were so happy that he looked so much like us, but for different reasons. She was thankful that he had my nose and auburn hair, but I did not breathe a sigh of relief until I saw his little eyes. I was worried that somehow, from a place buried deep in my DNA, that he would be cursed with the serpentine eyes that would forever mark him as descendant of Coriolanus. Instead, when he first gazed up at his father, all I saw was beautiful sea-green.

Katniss rocks him gently back and forth, singing a quiet melody to him. I can't make out the words, but it is beautiful. When she comes to the end of the tune, she looks over and sees me off by myself, staring at her loving care of my child. Careful not to disturb the infant's peaceful slumber, she stands up, walks over to check things with Peeta, and then comes and takes a seat with me.

"Hell of a view you have. How do I get a backyard like this?"

"Win the Hunger Games." Both of us burst out laughing. She then looks down at Octavian. "You know, I never thought in a million years that I would be a holding a baby in my arms with the last name, Snow."

"Well, I'm glad you are…but if certain Avoxes had had their way, you wouldn't be."

"How has Lizzy been doing?" Katniss asks caringly.

"Better actually…I wish I could say the same." I pause as I ask a question that has been brewing in my head for months. "Honestly, do the nightmares ever go away?" She answers with her trademark honesty.

"No, but they do get easier to deal with. Especially when they keep reminding you of how precious things around you can be." She looks over to Peeta, Prim, and Haymitch. I look first to Lizzy and then to my son.

"So, have they caught the bastard yet?"

"No, he's disappeared without a trace. President Holmes is already working on having him declared dead."

"Typical politician, always out for appearances first," Katniss says with annoyance.

"Interesting opinion for a presidential assassin. I guess some things never change, however, I assure you that she is worlds above some of the other leaders of Panem who have made your acquaintance." Both of us laugh again.

"So do you think it was worth it?" I ask.

"What?"

"What you and Peeta went through to be together in the arena, the war, picking up the pieces of his mind, everything."

"You know, the versions of Peeta and me you saw in all those reruns isn't exactly reality."

"How so?"

"The love between us in the first games was all an invention of our mentor…at least on _my_ side of things. Haymitch and I thought it would bring us more sponsors and keep us alive if I played along with Peeta's feelings." This is more of a shock to me then when I found out that Katniss voted yes for the Games with the Capitol's children. "I didn't realize that I actually loved him back for real until I almost lost him to Snow's…." she hesitates apologetically.

"It's alright," I say reassuringly. "Keep going."

"_President _Snow's torture. It was when I saw the good person inside of him almost eclipsed by hatred and anger that I knew I couldn't stand to ever live without him again."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked if all of it was worth it. Before that Reaping Day, I was one-hundred percent convinced that I would never get married and have children." She points to Prim who is currently chasing Lizzy across the grass as Haymitch bounces along behind his sister. "Prim is ten years old now. If things had stayed the same, her name would be in those glass bowls in less than two years. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I heard her called over those loudspeakers. If she had made it, than it could be Haymitch just a few years later. I'd have rather died a crazy old spinster alone in the woods than put myself through one second of that.

But now, with men like you protecting us," she says reaching out and patting my knee acerbically, "We live in a different world: a world where _all_ our children can grow up to be whatever they choose to be and never knowing things like the Hunger Games. Was it worth it?" she asks looking one last time toward her three most treasured possessions. "I would go through everything again a million times if it meant that I could sit here peacefully on this sunny day and see my husband happily cooking lunch while my son and daughter play games with your beautiful wife. I think that when you look down at this little guy here, you know your answer would be the same." I am speechless, but I know that she is right.

"So, what will little Octavian Snow choose to be," Katniss says gently rocking him back and forth, "a soldier, like his father…or maybe _a politician_?" she says looking back to me.

"Actually, I kind of hope he takes up fishing." She smiles at my words.

"Hey everybody!" Peeta yells from the back porch. "Food's almost ready! I just gotta get the rolls out of the oven." Lizzy leads Prim and Haymitch from the grass inside to wash up.

"He really is a good man…" I say trailing off.

"The best," she replies. "No offense."

"None taken. Whether you really loved him or not during that first games doesn't matter, you know? You made the right choice in the end, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't mind at all. I hope that little revelation hasn't spoiled the view of your beloved Mockingjay too much," Katniss says sarcastically.

"You'll always be my beloved Mockingjay," I reply.

"Actually, Peeta and I had a long talk about that recently. You see, I've grown kinda tired of being that beloved Mockingjay. I mean, that was over twenty-five years ago, and I think I deserve to retire."

"What?" I ask confused.

"Well, I'm a lot of different things now: hunter, wife, mother…my schedule is packed and being a treasured national icon sort of gets in the way." She expertly balances Octavian in one arm while reaching into her pocket with the other. She pulls something out and puts it in my palm. "My time has passed, Ares. This country needs new heroes to look up to." She smiles one last time and stands up. "C'mon little guy, I think your mama will want you back," she whispers into Octavian's sleeping ears.

She walks over to the kitchen to help Peeta and Lizzy. Alone again, I look down to see what she placed in my hand. It is her Mockingjay pin: the sacred symbol of the Revolution.

Unfortunately, I don't get long to savor the moment.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP,"_ chirps the communicuff on my wrist. I press the button and answer.

"Colonel Snow," I say expecting a routine message from the Ministry.

"It's wonderful to hear your voice again, _My Dear Ares_." It is like I have been dropped into a giant tank of ice water. I jump up and run over to the forest, not wanting anyone to know with whom I'm speaking.

"So, you _are_ alive, Ohm. I was starting to wonder. I see you've made yourself another Reevox."

"So, we're back to formalities now? Pity, I was starting to like the little friendship we were building before. Yes, I've made another Reevox. I had to after you so rudely took my old one as a trophy."

"I suppose it won't do me any good to trace this?"

"Probably not, though I do see that your technicians at the Ministry have done a splendid job enhancing your security protocols. Who knows? You_ might_ be safe now."

"Why don't I believe you when you say that?"

"_Because you know me_, My Dear Colonel. You know what I'm _capable _of."

"What do you want, Ohm?"

"After our little encounter on the island last year, I've had some time to reflect. I really do apologize for being such as horrible host to you and Mrs. Snow. Perhaps the next time the three of us meet, it will be under more civil circumstances. Actually, should I say the _four _of us now. I'm sorry I haven't congratulated you yet on the new arrival."

"Don't you even dare mention my son!"

"Now there is that fiery temper I've missed so much. Tell me, Colonel, who do you have your monthly meetings with at Special Defense now? Does he or she provide the same level of quality that I did or are you still searching for another with my talents?"

"I really don't think you called me to ask for your old job back, Ohm, so get to whatever point you're going to make."

"Fine, always impatient as usual. You see, I've realized you were right all along. You're not my enemy at all! I mean, you can't help what you are anymore than I can help what I am. The real enemies are those who _tolerate your existence_: The Ministry, that pompous ass General Sturm, and that cow of a President that keeps getting foolishly re-elected time after time. Why you could even say that the real enemy are the people of Panem themselves. After all, they claim to abhor the horrors of the old regime and yet allow so many of its old traditions to remain. Luckily for me, my new friends feel the same way."

"What are you talking about, Rikard?"

"Back to first names again? Really, Colonel, this is becoming tiring. You must make up your mind."

"Dammit, what is going on?"

"Oh don't worry, _God of War_, you'll find out soon enough…_HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"_ The same maniacal laughing that haunts my nightmares returns. That is when I hear the explosions begin.

END OF BOOK ONE


	29. In Shadow's Light Chapter 1

Three bombs rocked the Capitol almost simultaneously. Somehow, Ohm found a way to stream the audio directly to my communicuff. I heard the blasts, the screams in the street as tons of brick, mortar, and steel collapsed, and the terror that followed. It chilled me to the core. Then, the transmission abruptly cut off, and again he was gone, leaving no trace behind.

I jump into action, attempting first to contact the Ministry…but silence is my only answer. After almost ten minutes, I am able to reach Captain Amelia Flagg in Central Briefing. she sounds disoriented, but is physically alright. Luckily for her, Central Briefing's bunker-like construction deep underneath street level is what saved it. The ground floors and above were a total loss.

"Amelia, stay on the line, talk to me!"

"Sir," she says coughing through thick smoke and dust. "We're alright, but we're trapped. Emergency power is holding, but we barely have comms…"

"Have you managed to get into contact with anybody else?"

"Yes," she still says hacking on the barely breathable air. "First Responders are on street level and working to put out the fires. We're spinning up the Quick Reaction Force to lock down the Capital. Also, District Governments have been put on alert."

"Have we been able to ID the other targets yet?" There is a pause.

"Affirmative…" she hesitates.

"Well, what are they?" I say starting to lose my cool a little.

"The Presidential Mansion's been hit as well. Heavy Damage to the building's exterior, unknown numbers of dead at this time." I panic as I think Ohm might have actually dealt a more crippling blow to Panem than I thought.

"What about the President? Is she alive?"

"Yes, Sir. We've already been able to reach her. She was at an early morning meeting at the Ministry of Commerce."

"Thank the Lord. What about the third target? Is it the Legislative building?"

"No Sir…" she hesitates again.

"Dammit Amelia, talk to me."

"It's an apartment building in the Residential Sector….it was totally destroyed. Early reports indicate heavy casualties…."

"What's the address?"

"45th and Forum Avenue." I drop to my knees and bury my head in my hands. That address was completely benign: nothing significant about it at all. The staggering loss of civilian life was pointless…I should know considering _I live there._

"It's my fault…." I whisper as I imagine all the faces of friends and neighbors I will never see again.

"Sir!" Amelia screams through the communicuff. "Sir, we're losing you!"

"Just hold on, Amelia I'll be there in less than four hours. Spin up the President and the Defense Council!"

"Yes Sir! We'll be ready for…." Her transmission dissipates into static.

Immediately, I make contact with Fort Boggs in District 13. They had already been briefed on what has happened and agree to send a hovercraft to pick me up and deliver me directly to the Capitol.

"Ares?" I hear Lizzy's voice coming toward the forest. "We're holding lunch for you. Why are you back here..." she freezes as soon as she sees my pale, somber face. "Oh my God, it's him isn't it?"

"He hit us, Lizzy. He hit us hard…" I spend the next few minutes telling her of Ohm's cryptic message, the loss of our home, and so many innocent lives. She begins to cry, but does her best to keep herself together. We run back to the house where Katniss and Peeta meet us on the back porch. They've been through enough in their lives to feel when something is horribly wrong. Repeating the news for a second time is even harder than the first.

"Go," Peeta says immediately. "We'll take care of Lizzy and Octavian for as long as you need…" I remember why I love them so much because I know he means it, and the way he trails off at the end lets me know he'll take care of them forever…if that's what I need.

"Thank You," I say with genuine adoration. Peeta just nods back.

"You're welcome."

The hovercraft screams in from the east, makes a quick circle and then lands in the backyard throwing up a cloud of dirt and flying grass. The roar of noise and vibration wakes Octavian and he begins screaming. Lizzy's does her best to comfort him, I think because she feels it will make me feel better, considering it could be the last time I ever see them.

"It's alright," I yell over the sound of the hovercraft. "I love you so much!" I say before tasting her wonderful lips one final time. Octavian is still crying, but I kiss him on his little forehead and whisper, "I love you too, Little Man." I run out onto the back porch. Peeta and Katniss are there to meet me.

He hands me a plastic container filled with food. I try to refuse at first, but he insists.

"I know you feel like throwing up right now, but you need to eat. Keep your strength up because you'll need it…if not for you, then for them! Trust us, we know." he says pointing back to the house. He's right. I accept it graciously after his explanation. "Good Luck." He reaches over and shakes my hand. I turn to Katniss. Her face may be older, but it is the same one that comforted me through so many dark times in my childhood. I'm glad she's here now because I still need her to be. She gently grabs my shoulders and places a gentle peck on my cheek. Before she retreats, she whispers something to me.

"I'll be your Mockingjay right now, but remember what I said. You can do it." She steps back and Peeta wraps his arm around her.

"Please, just keep them safe," I say a little more desperately than I wish.

"Focus on the task at hand now, Soldier. They'll be waiting for you when you get back," Katniss says with a smile.

"Thank you again, both of you."

"Just go! That damn thing is tearing up my grass!" Katniss actually gets me to laugh as I run to the hovercraft and climb aboard. The pilot guns the throttle and lifts us to the clouds before screaming towards the western sky.

I had asked for a uniform to be waiting for me onboard. Luckily, the crew remembered my request because I did not want to try to make my way into the remains of the Ministry wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of running shoes. As I change, I check the displays for the latest updates coming out of the Capitol. The Death toll is high, but beginning to stabilize. As callous as it sounds, we actually were pretty lucky. Things could have been a lot worse.

The flight will be another two hours till we reach our destination, and I decide to force myself to open Peeta's supplies. Luckily, as the still warm scent of fresh rolls and grilled venison tenderloin hits my nostrils, I don't have to force myself very hard. I am indeed thankful my impromptu meal because in all the shock of the day, I forgot how starving I was. The lesson I learned in _Tracks_ last year seems to have faded.

I begin to think why Ohm would have chosen those particular targets. He knew that the most vital parts of the Ministry were shielded below ground, he probably knew that President Holmes would not be at home when the explosion destroyed the mansion, and he definitely knew that I was not home considering he was talking to me as he had his finger on the detonator.

_"No, this attack wasn't meant to do any real damage. It was a message that he still can hit us wherever or whenever he wants."_

Tragically, this thought leads me to an even more terrifying realization.

_"If this wasn't the real attack…that means something even worse is coming…"_

No, now is not the time for fear. I can't let it get in the way. I'm about to head into a disaster zone, and the people need their leadership to be providing the example. Ohm is a terrorist: he wants me panicked so I fail to see his next move. Just like last year in the jungle…_I refuse to let him win…again. _

I reach down into my pocket, and pull out the gift that Katniss gave me. I curse silently as I realize that I never had the chance to thank her, not only for the generosity of bestowing on me such a precious icon, but also for the incredible faith that she has placed in me. I hope that I am worthy. At least we won't have to wait long to find out.

I hold the pin in my fingers. Its simple golden surface reflects the dim lights of the hovercraft cabin. I never could quite get over the feeling of finally seeing something in person that you have marveled at in pictures and video your entire life. It is as if something from the realm of your fantasies instantly becomes hard reality, sometimes for the worse, but thankfully most of the time for the better. It's like faith is instantly confirmed and rewarded at the same time.

_"Do I even to deserve to become the Mockingjay?"_ Katniss certainly thought so.

_"Well, at the very least, this thing seemed to bring her a lot of luck. Might as well see if it has any left to give…"_

Considering they were unable to get me a nametag on such short notice, the pin serves a dual purpose as I carefully attach it to my shirt. I have indeed, become the Mockingjay.

Just under two hours later, the pilot's voice comes over the intercom.

"Sir, we've just cleared the outer mountains and are approaching the Capitol." I run up to the cockpit and stare out the view screen. I have seen the Capitol Skyline thousands of times before, but never like this. Three huge billowing clouds of smoke still rise from the sites of the attack. The Ministry and Presidential Mansion are both in the Government District. The third cloud, dozens of blocks away, seems so out of place. I'm afraid it won't be long before people start putting two and two together. "Where do you want to land, Sir?" The pilot asks.

"Get me as close to the Ministry as you can."

'Yes, Sir."

"The pilot certainly does his job. Despite the hundreds of rescue personnel and heavy equipment on the ground among the scorched ruins, he manages to get us less than a block from the front entrance. I run towards the wreckage as the smell of smoke and charred flesh still hangs nauseatingly in the air. The façade is gone: the happy murals of the 12 districts lie in thousands of broken pieces among the blackened, twisted metal and shattered glass. I walk to where the front lobby once stood and find two familiar faces standing on the empty pedestal: President Holmes and General Sturm. Both are alive and unharmed, and doing what they can to reach the trapped personnel in Central Briefing.

"Good to see you're alright, Madame President." I say with relief.

"The same to you, Colonel," she replies graciously.

"What the hell is that thing on your uniform, Snow?" General Sturm yells pointing at the Mockingjay pin. Even though I would call us friends now, he certainly has a funny way of showing it.

"Sir, I'll explain later when there's more time. Have we been able to reach them at all?"

"Intermittently. Back-up power is stable, but it will be at least two more hours before we can get regular levels of electricity down there and restore full comms."

The primary elevator shaft down to Central Briefing was destroyed in the blast, but the Rescuers have managed to dig a new shaft directly down towards the hallway. As they break through the last layer of concrete and rock, the rush of stale air rising from the three hundred foot deep hole is intense. Quickly, a mining elevator is jury-rigged and Holmes, Sturm, myself, and a few others make the decent down into the darkness.

"Madame President, you really shouldn't be down here yet," I say trying to convince her.

"We don't know for sure it's safe."

"If it's safe enough for you, Colonel Snow, than it's damn well safe enough for me. I was helping to install three ton wheel assemblies under bullet trains before you were born!"

"Yes, Ma'am," I can't help saying without a smile. We drop into the hallway. It is illuminated only by red, flickering emergency lighting. I pull out a flashlight and begin walking toward the doors at the end. The damage down here is very light; remarkable considering the amount of explosives used up top. Initial estimates put the bomb that did this somewhere at around half a ton crammed into the back of a delivery van.

We reach the doors to Central Briefing.

"Magnetic Safeties have tripped," I say examining the control panel. "They're designed to hermetically seal the room in the event of a chemical attack."

"How do we disengage them?" Holmes asks curiously. I rip off the front of the control panel and begin to splice together a few wires.

"Like this," I say connecting the last two together. Instantly the doors slide open and we are confronted with a healthy, but very exasperated Captain Amelia Flagg.

"WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO LONG?...Sir."


	30. In Shadow's Light Chapter 2

After four very difficult hours, we manage to restore full power to Central Briefing. Slowly, the feeds begin pouring in from all over the country again. Almost all the messages are simply frantic requests for updates from the Capitol which the analysts begin to answer one by one.

President Holmes, General Sturm, Amelia, and I are soon joined by the Interim Chief of Special Defense.

"What is he doing here?" I ask as he stumbles into the room, knocking dust from his expensive District 1 suit. I never did like him much before I knew his name. Now, after finding out the truth about who he is, I hate him for one simple reason: Octavian will never be able to meet his Aunt Primrose.

"I've asked him to come from District 2 because I think as result of these attacks, it is necessary for Panem to have a complete Defensive Committee in place which is why I'd like to offer Mr. Hawthorne here the permanent position of Chief.

"Why Madam President," he says with a futile attempt to cover up his District 12 accent. "I would be honored."

_"Mr. Gale Hawthorne, Great, I'd almost rather have Ohm back." _ When he first arrived at the Ministry not long after Rikard had deprived us of his lovely company, He automatically set me on edge with his politician's demeanor: never ceasing need to put on a show for everybody around him. It was almost like he was trying his hardest to keep something a secret. I like to pay attention to little details about people. It is usually those that tell you the most. He always wore the most expensive clothing he could find, drove a car that cost more than most people's houses, and he spent so much time in a salon having his hair and face groomed that I wondered if his reputation of enjoying the company of so many different ladies may be just a cover. But, then I saw his hands: rough, weathered, and abused. They were not the hands of a playboy, but the hands of someone who once lived by physical hardship and back-breaking labor. I then understood at least one of the things this man was hiding under _a lot_ of money: he grew up starving and destitute. I knew I had seen his dark hair and olive face somewhere before, but it was not until President Holmes introduced him, that I realized he was Katniss' "cousin" from the Seventy-Fourth games. Luckily for me, Lizzy was able to fill me in on the full story before I stupidly uttered something to Peeta and Katniss about my new co-worker. The two of us have since agreed that we will keep it a secret as long as possible since both of them seem to be doing so well _not_ thinking about him. Unfortunately, it will be a little harder at this point considering that he's now apparently going to be around awhile.

Besides the obvious, the other reason I can't stand the man is he seems to be the only person left in the Ministry these days that has not been able to get past my last name. Even though Lizzy has told me how hard things were for him, I don't really care. Somehow, I've managed to start using the word "Snow" as a way to avoid his company rather than any kind of personal shame or humiliation on my part. Call it a "step in the right direction" for me.

How Gale Hawthorne rose to the meteoric heights of the Panem Defense Industry is a story that I've been able to piece together from other sources, mostly owing to the fact I try to converse with him as little as possible. Of course, the tale begins right at the end of the Revolution. After being spurned by Katniss for the reason that Lizzy almost refused to tell me for fear that I would kill him (I _almost _did actually), Gale took a job as a Defense Industries Supervisor at the former Ohm Defense Works adjacent to "the Nut." Using his connections gained while fighting for the Rebels, Gale was soon one of the Board of Directors. However, despite his keen business sense and killer instincts, he still found himself unable to break to the top. It was not until he heard of Ohm's resurfacing with the design for the Reevox that he was able to put a plan into action. Backing Ohm's research with his own money, Ohm and Gale were able to make a fortune off the Reevox, mostly by Gale using his connections to negotiate a contract with the Ministry of Health for a guaranteed order of half a million units for Avox relief.

_"How Noble…"_

Using their new wealth, the two of them bought controlling shares of Ohm Defense, placing Rikard back as the public figurehead and Chief Designer, while Gale stayed on as Chief Financial Officer. Apparently, designing new weapons became just a hobby to him after that, until now, of course.

So, as he sits in the war room of Central Briefing, helping us to come up with a battle plan to find and destroy the man who made him rich, I have serious doubts about his sincerity.

"Are we sure that it was Rikard Ohm at all?" He says innocently.

"I'M PRETTY SURE!" I yell across the table to silence him. "The communicuff transmission I received just before the bombs went off was a pretty good hint."

For the first time, Gale actually looks in my direction and sees the Mockingjay pin on my uniform, now proudly displayed over the name "Snow" etched into a nametag I was able to salvage from my office on the level above. His eyes grow wide with suppressed rage as he instantly recognizes the pin of the one woman he was never able to have. I have to admit, this just is icing on the cake for me.

"Colonel Snow," he says deliberately trying to hide the fact that he's seething, "I was merely trying to ask if we have been able to _authenticate_ the transmission you received."

"Captain Flagg?" I say turning towards Amelia.

"Well, the message structure was nearly identical to the communicuff message you received last year from him, and the voice print was a spot on match….for his Reevox collar."

"Which could have been copied on one of thousands of collars that Ohm industries has produced!"

"Why are you trying to defend him so much?" I ask sternly.

"That is a valid question, Mr. Hawthorne," General Sturm adds.

"Ohm is dead, I'm sure of it!" he shouts across the table to us both.

"And your opinion has nothing to do with the fact that you inherit Ohm's shares in the Company and his job here if he's dead…" I say rather tactlessly.

"That's enough, Colonel Snow. Please continue Mr. Hawthorne."

"_Ah, Driva,"_ I think. _"Always the referee, even if it doesn't suit you." _

"It just doesn't make sense to me that he could have been so wounded on the island last year and still survived long enough to plan and execute this incredibly intricate bombing attack…"

"Unless he had help," I say bluntly.

"That is the question, isn't it?" President Holmes declares just before her communicuff beeps. She presses the button and exchanges a few phrases with the speaker on the other end. "General," she says to Sturm, "It's the Speaker of the Legislature. He wants us to update him with the latest information we have." She turns to the rest of us. "Captain Flagg, we'll need your notes," she turns back to me and Gale, "If you gentlemen will excuse us for a few minutes."

"Of course, Madam President," he says with his sycophantic wine.

_"God, I hate him." _I don't want to be alone with him at the table, so I head to the kitchenette at the far side of the Central Briefing. _"Oh, if the bombs destroyed the coffee maker, then I'll be really pissed off, Rikard."_ Thankfully, the machine is intact and after a few seconds of fumbling, I'm able to get it brewing. Shortly before I'm about to enjoy the first of many steaming cups, a hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around. Gale grabs my collars and puts his face down in mine.

"How do you know Katniss Everdeen, _Snow_?" I am definitely not in the mood for this; especially the way he said "Snow" like he was speaking to some kind of dog. I grab his right wrist, twist in just the right way, and send him down to his knees writhing in pain.

"I think you mean Katniss _Mellark_, Hawthorne. Don't worry, I made that same mistake too when I first met her." He is still immobilized, his face twisted in agony. "She actually happens to be a good friend of my wife and me. We were actually enjoying the Mellark's fine hospitality when this little show of your previous employer kicked off. Man, Peeta can sure grill some venison. Do you remember the taste of venison from District 12 or has it faded after years of eating prime District 10 steak every night?"

"Let me go, Snow!"

"Ok, but here's your one warning: touch me again, and you won't get your hand back. Understand?" He manages a nod and I throw away his arm like it was rubbish.

He doesn't bother getting to his feet.

"Have you told Katniss about us working together?"

"No," I say shaking my head. "The topic of you hasn't really come up a lot," I say sarcastically.

"Well, has she at least told you about how I saved Annie's life when she was trapped in a Capitol Prison?"

"No, but Lizzy has, and I am grateful to you for that, but she also mentioned one more thing that kinda gets in the way…"

"And what is that?" he spits back at angrily.

"Lizzy also told me what really happened to Katniss' little sister, Prim…" That struck a nerve. Gale sinks down onto the linoleum as I grab a hot cup from the coffeemaker and head back to Central Briefing.

"Where have you been, Colonel?" President Holmes asks. She, Sturm, and Amelia have all returned to the table.

"Just grabbing a cup of coffee, Madame President. Is this a new brand? Tastes _delicious_," I say taking a slow sip on my mug. Gale stumbles out of the kitchenette in a daze holding his wrist. He collapses back into his seat and stares off into space.

"I'm not sure, Colonel Snow….." Holmes says staring at me suspiciously. "But I'm afraid we have more important things to worry about right now than how your coffee tastes."

"Of course, let's get back to business."

At that moment the incoming transmission alarm sounds. Another junior analyst comes running over and hands Amelia a sheet of paper.

"This isn't possible."

"What is it, Captain Flagg," Sturm asks.

"We're receiving a live broadcast over….the L-Band Network."

"But the L-Band is only used by the…." President Holmes doesn't have the chance to finish her sentence before an image appears from the static on the large screen behind us.

"Well, Mr. Hawthorne," Holmes says to Gale who is still looking down at the table in a daze. "Looks like your theory about Rikard Ohm being dead was incorrect."

"Why do you say that, Madame President?" he asks.

"Because there he is behind you…" I say trailing off. Gale turns around to see the forty foot tall image of Rikard Ohm towering above him. Ohm is dressed in a new white jumpsuit, his hair is neatly combed, and a shiny new chrome Reevox collar adorns his neck. I look over and see his entire right arm has been replaced by a white plastic prosthetic.

_"Well, Rikard, looks like you've come a little bit closer to being one of your beloved machines…"_

The camera pans back, revealing that Ohm is standing on a polished, white marble balcony overlooking a square filled with thousands of people, dressed in similar white jumpsuits. To our horror, everyone in Central Briefing now knows exactly where Ohm has been hiding the last year…and who his new friends apparently are.

His new artificial voice begins to speak into a microphone, blasting his words both to the crowd below and across the ocean to us here.

"Good morning to you all hear with me, and Good evening to the People of Panem watching on their televisions."

"What?" Presidents Holmes exclaims.

"I'm sorry, Madam President," Amelia says sadly. "His carrier wave is taking over the national broadcast network, we're trying to push him out, but right now there's nothing we can do."

Ohm continues.

"I'm speaking to you live from Germania, Capitol of the Trans-European Commonwealth…"


	31. In Shadow's Light Chapter 3

What was once called "Europe" was annihilated by the global war three hundred years ago. The Trans-European Commonwealth's, or TEC's, history is vague (like all history from those ages) but barring the official propaganda narrative that the TEC espouses, these are the known facts.

Europe was once composed of independent nation-states, each with their own language, religion, and ideology. The threat of war was constant and due to the continent's relatively advanced technology and desire for conquest, the world was often brought to the brink of destruction by its whims. However, starting about five-hundred years ago, Europe entered an era of relative peace. Though the threat of attack still existed from the rest of the world, Europe's own citizens seemed to enter a new age of cooperation of understanding…at least from the outside.

Two centuries of poor economic growth led to stagnation. Bitter power struggles erupted among the various elites of the nation states to who would be dominant on the continent. Constant shortages of fuel and food would result in riots among the lower classes that could last for weeks or months before being put down by government intervention. Finally, when the global war started (no one, not even us can really remember how), Europe along with the rest of the world burned like a cinder. Billions starved, died of disease, or perished in the violence.

While Panem turned North America back into a feudal collection of Districts, the chaos continued in Europe until the rise of a new order from the ashes. They were known simply as the "Lawgivers:" harsh, unyielding totalitarians who were convinced the only way to restore the vitality of the continent was to crush all forms of individualism and subordinate the people of Europe into service of their will. One by one, the warring remains of the nation states were conquered with sheer force and overwhelming firepower. Millions more perished in what is known in the official TEC narrative as the _"Century of Pain"_ until finally only one place lay beyond the grasp of the Lawgivers: the island of Britannia. The natives there had devolved into a collection of tribes themselves, but were still bound by an ancient belief that no outside power would ever lay claim to their islands.

The TEC only tried to invade once. As soon as their troops set foot on British soil, they were met by an ungodly wave of guerilla tactics and suicidal tenacity that forced them back into the seas. Since that costly mistake, the TEC has decided that for the most part Britannia is a nuisance more suitable for use as a propaganda tool for consolidating their power by distracting TEC citizens from other problems back on the continent: the classic red herring, only applied to geopolitics. It was thought by the Lawgivers that with the establishment of a total air and naval blockade, Britain would collapse in a matter of decades. The Lawgivers were wrong. The British tribes established an advanced air defense network of guns, rockets, and missiles to keep their islands safe from outside forces while letting the rest of their citizenry devolve back into a self-sustaining agrarian society.

Back on the mainland, however, the Lawgivers were forcibly changing the very fabric of their own society. Food became simple nourishment to the body, not something to be savored. It was produced by a massive new network of underground hydroponic gardens as a commodity available to all, enjoyed by none. Science excelled in the development of new tools of control. Advanced nuclear reactors began producing energy that became free to all levels of society, but not for health or comfort, but to ensure that every domicile could be equipped with reliable and steady listening devices. Medical care was provided at no cost to all citizens, not because of any kind of moral imperative, but due to the loss of millions in the wars, every single worker was needed in the best possible condition to produce more for less.

Uniformity and absolute loyalty to the Supreme Lawgiver became the religion. Any dissent against the government or its policies was weeded out. Every day at noon, the public would be required to watch the live broadcasts of criminals and political dissidents being tortured to death in the most ghastly ways without any kind of mercy. The old cities and capitals of the nation states were dynamited and bulldozed flat. No thought was given to any kind of aesthetics or historical significance. Art and Culture that had existed undisturbed for almost 4000 years was turned to ash in a matter of years. In the places of the old cities, rose endless towers of steel, glass, chrome and polished stone. Every street, alley, building, and indeed every room was equipped with optical and audio sensor nets. Privacy according to the "Lawgivers" was "an obsolete and archaic concept of the decadent past." To even_ think_ against the rulers of the TEC was deemed a crime worthy of absolute punishment.

For ease of command and control, the site of the ancient city known as "Berlin" in the center of the continent was chosen for a new capital city where the principles of the Lawgivers would be enforced to an even higher degree. This new metropolis called, "Germania," was the pulpit from which the gospel of subordination was preached and enforced, but not by spectacle as it was in Panem, but by pure and simple draconian punishment. Among the modern state of the art architecture, one ancient symbol of eternal power and strength was erected: a polished marble pyramid one hundred stories tall known simply as "The Heart." It was built in the very center of Germania to act as the complete seat of government. Everything from Defense to Interior Security, Agriculture, Economics, and Education rested within its sloping walls and the structure was consequently created to be absolutely impenetrable: a symbol of utter dominance for eternity. For the brainwashed citizens of TEC, this pyramid was the very center of the world, and it is from the balcony of "The Heart" that Ohm addresses the screaming crowd.

"My friends and fellow disciples of the Lawgivers…" Ohm says in his artificial voice.

"That son of a bit…" General Sturm growls.

"Well, I guess this _officially_ makes him a traitor…" President Holmes mutters to herself.

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I think he was a traitor a long time before this." I quickly add. I hear some words come from Gale to my right that I cannot quite make out. I can't be sure, but I swear he said, _"To some…"_

Ohm continues his speech to the adoring crowd.

"I was a slave to the barbarians of Panem! They do not understand the importance of equality, justice, or service under the law. Instead, they are a decadent and morally devoid nation, completely obsessed now with the disgusting perversions of 'Personal Liberty' and 'Democracy.'" He raises his artificial arm in the air, and grabs his Reevox collar with the other. "Even though I have been mutilated and abused by their worst war criminal, Colonel Ares Snow, a puppet of the idiotic and corrupt President of Panem, Driva Holmes…"

"Guess he won't be voting for you come next election, Madam President…"

"Not now, Colonel Snow!"

"…my resolve to triumph for the good of the world has never been stronger!" The crowd begins to chant their support even louder. "So, I now come to the people of the Trans-European Commonwealth as a brother in arms, for I have learned information that proves that the animals across the ocean are your enemies! In my misguided service to the United Districts of Panem, I learned the horrible truth that they are conspiring with the savages of Britannia against you!" The crowd gasps as if he just uttered a vulgar curse. "They would like nothing better than to see the bloodthirsty British storm across the Channel and lay waste to everything that you have worked so hard to build. The people of Panem are truly the wicked! They want to enslave you and take the Supreme Leader's lands as their own! With your help, we can end this threat to the stability of the world and bring order and justice to all under the guidance and wisdom of the TEC!" The crowd continues to scream their support. "Now, I give to you The Man among Men, the Guardian of Righteous Virtue, The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere!" The crowd now becomes uncontrollable. People are actually weeping in joy as the cameras pan across their faces for a long propaganda shot. It is impossible to know any more if these citizens cry because they feel a genuine love for a man who has developed an airtight cult of personality around him, or they just fear the repercussions if they don't put on a convincing show. Maybe they don't even remember the difference…

Pierre Grosfrere is only in his thirties, relatively young for such a powerful autocrat. He rose to power in the Lawgivers by the same tactic that so many evil men before him have used, being more ruthless and bloodthirsty than all his competitors combined. He walks out onto the balcony with Ohm who steps aside and bows penitently.

_"How ironic, Rikard, you've gone and sold yourself to be another dictator's slave. Be careful though, you're running out of body parts for your master to cut off…"_

The camera briefly focuses on Grosfrere's face. His skin is pale white, much like Ohm's, but his strong features, piercing eyes, and jet black hair stand in stark contrast to Ohm's gaunt face. The shot then pans back out for the actual speech revealing the massive paintings of the previous Supreme Lawgivers that hang on either side of the balcony. It seems these poor people cannot escape their old master's faces even after they're dead and gone.

Grosfrere lets the crowd continue to go wild for a few more seconds before simply raising his arm in one fluid motion. Instantly, the crowd grows completely silent. Not even children make a sound. It is bone-chilling how disciplined, trained, and subordinated the citizens of TEC are.

"My loyal followers," Grosfrere begins in a nasal accent that I find repugnant. "Today, begins another glorious chapter in the saga of the Trans-European Commonwealth. Thanks to the diligence and dedication of our new comrade, Rikard Ohm, we have learned of the treachery of the heathens of Panem. If they support the savages who continue to refuse to accept the one true order, than they must be destroyed as well. We will force them to their knees in defeat and seize the many resources that they unfairly hoard as their own."

"This does not sound good," Sturm mutters. I nod in agreement.

"Less than twelve hours ago, a bombing attack organized by Comrade Ohm in the Capitol of the UDP, sent their leadership and Defensive Networks into disarray." Everyone at the table with me perks up.

"This has given our brave expeditionary forces enough time to get into position. I am pleased to report that four divisions of TEC forces now stand poised to take the fight directly to the shores of the enemy!"

"WHAT!" President Holmes shouts. All of us jump to our feet as suddenly all the early warning alarms in Central Briefing sound in unison.

Grosfrere holds his arms crossed above his head in the TEC victory sign.

"UNUS EUROPA!" he screams to the crowd which has begun screaming his name in unison. Instantly, the thousands below, probably joined by millions more watching on their televisions around the TEC, raise their arms into the same symbol and respond:

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!"

_"One Europe….under one leader."_

The analysts in Central Briefing are now running frantically trying to get reports. Grosfrere was not exaggerating. It appears that Ohm's attack was indeed the perfect distraction. While we were on alert looking inward, the TEC forces were slipping toward Panem from the outside. By the time the early warning beacons detected the enemy in our airspace, it was too late.

_The invasion of Panem has begun._


	32. In Shadow's Light Chapter 4

My first worry is for Lizzy and Octavian in District 12.

"Where are they landing?" I scream to Amelia as she desperately punches a keyboard. The holographic globe above the conference table transforms into a three-dimensional map of Panem. Red dots representing enemy units begin to cluster in specific locations around the country.

"This doesn't make any sense," she says confused. "They're already flying inland from the coasts and taking heavy casualties from our air defenses. TEC forces seem to be concentrating in only four districts."

"Which ones?" General Sturm asks.

"3, 6, 13….and 2."

Those districts don't even border each other! Why would they be starting their invasion there?" President Holmes says. "Those divisions will be immediately cut off and isolated."

"Because, TEC wants to cripple our ability to make war. Think about it: Three is Industry, 6 is Transportation, 13 is…well, obvious, and 2 is the home to Ohm's former factory. We lose those districts, and we become combat ineffective," I say pensively.

"Then we won't lose those districts!" Sturm shouts.

"Now hold on, just one second," Gale interrupts. "What exactly is your plan there, ladies and gentlemen? Like you said, we lose those districts and we're completely combat ineffective. So, you want us to ride rough shot in there like the cavalry and pulverize everything? How do you know that's not the TEC's whole plan? We destroy our own infrastructure and then all they have to do is wait a few months for us to starve and steam-roll us!"

"Again," I say, "this has nothing to do with the fact that the precious factory you just inherited is in District 2, does it?"

"Of course not, Colonel! As Chief of Special Defense, I'm merely concerned with the long term viability of our Military Industrial Complex."

"Right, that's gotta be it," I reply sarcastically.

"Are you sure you're the same Gale Hawthorne that I fought with all those years ago? Full of piss and vinegar ready to do whatever it took to win?" General Sturm asks like a disappointed old friend.

"No, I'm not, Wade," Gale says sternly. "I've grown up and I was hoping that you had as well." General Sturm's face grows red, but he offers no other response. Gale continues, "It's not enough anymore to just destroy everything and then start over. We're past that, by _a long shot_. The TEC has had two hundred years to prepare for this fight. We haven't even had thirty years of peace since the last time we destroyed this country. We can't keep doing this and hope to survive. We've got to come up with some way to bring peace with honor." General Sturm explodes.

"A weapons designer who now is too afraid to go to war…that's rich. Right now, Brainwashed TEC zombies are getting ready to lay waste to District 2, my home and now yours as well! And the way you're talking, I don't think you give a damn! You _coward_!"

"Call me a coward if you want, General, but that does not change the fact that what you're suggesting will bring about the possible deaths of millions of innocents…"

"You build bombs, you hypocrite!" Sturm continues to his tirade, but Gale is unfazed.

"Just because I build bombs doesn't mean that I want them used indiscriminately. I've lived with the consequences of such stupidity before…." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale looking at the Mockingjay pin on my shirt. "I used to be willing to do anything to secure victory, General, but no longer. I lost everything that I ever wanted or cared about following that blind dogma, and I _refuse_ to make the same mistake again."

"Then, Mr. Hawthorne," President Holmes says resolutely, "perhaps the position of Chief of Special Defense is not for you…"

"Madame President, please…" I say interrupting. "As much as it pains me to agree with the cheesedick here…"

"cheesedick?" Gale yells at me insulted.

"Yes, cheesedick," I say without even looking at him. "It's a word, _look it up."_ General Sturm at this point is doing his best to hold in laughter, but the President does not look amused as I continue my point. "A full assault would be counterproductive at this juncture, but not because of any ridiculous notions of 'peace with honor.'"

"And why do you say that, Colonel Snow?" President Holmes replies.

"Because, Ma'am. They have Ohm with them now, which means he's trying to deceive us again just like last year. If your goal is to overrun, an entire country, why would attack with only four divisions? That's less than ten percent of total TEC forces. No, I know what Rikard is thinking. He believes we're so inexperienced and foolish that we'll fall for two deceptions in a row. So, while we're assembling all our forces for a massive counterassault, the TEC raiders will be accomplishing whatever is their _real_ mission, and then all our forces will be stagnant for days or maybe even weeks as they hunt the enemy down across the country unnecessarily. This whole thing is a trick, _that_ I'm sure of. It's what they're really doing that I can't figure out."

"Then what exactly is your suggestion, Colonel?" says President Holmes confused and_ definitely_ frustrated.

"Four strike teams, no more than fifty members a piece and each led by an experienced operative. They go in to the affected districts, knock the TEC forces off balance, and then figure out what the hell they're really doing. "

"When would these strike teams leave?" President Holmes asks. I look at the time on my communicuff.

"How long does it take to fuel four assault hovercrafts, draw weapons, and then you sign the order?"

"Captain Flagg," President Holmes says without looking away from me.

"Yes, Madam President."

"Make the preparations. The Assault teams go wheels up in one hour."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Amelia says running off toward the underground hangar.

"And who, Colonel Snow," President Holmes continues, "did you have in mind to lead these four teams?"

"I'll take District 6. I trained their extensively as a cadet and know the layout of the city."

"Take good care of it, please," she says with a worried voice. "Remember, that's my home."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What about the other three?" I look at the digital roster of available personnel.

"Well, we have Lieutenant Colonel Marbury available. He has experience as a commander at Fort Boggs so he is familiar with 13. We also have Major Tacker: her husband is from District 3 and I know she travels there regularly."

"Alright, go with those two. Who do we have to lead the counter-assault on 2?"

"Easy," General Sturm interjects calmly. "_Me_." We are all taken by surprise by his desire to fight, but soon realize we shouldn't be.

"Actually, General," President Holmes asks tactfully, "I was hoping that you would remain here with me in Central Briefing to oversee command and control."

"Absolutely not, Ma'am," he says looking at her in the eye. "Like you said, it's my home and if it goes down, I want to make sure it's with a fight." We can see President Holmes turning the issue over and over again in her mind, but she finally comes to a decision we know is the right one.

"Very well, General Sturm, I think you've earned it."

"Are we actually considering this ridiculous plan?" Gale screams. "A platoon of fifty against a division of over a thousand? What possible good will this do besides waste lives and resources? If the TEC starts thinking we aren't even a viable threat, they'll just send even more forces and we'll really be against the ropes."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hawthorne," I say disdainfully. "After we've accomplished our missions, I think the TEC will see us as a _very_ viable threat, indeed."

Half an hour later, the raiders are all assembled in the main hangar in full combat gear. Amelia, as always, has performed flawlessly. She was able to assemble a two-hundred person strike force out of the ashes of the Ministry in less time than it takes most people to do the dishes after dinner.

General Sturm, Lieutenant Colonel Marbury, Major Tacker, and I look out at the faces that are locked, cocked, and ready to roll.

"Sir," I say gesturing to General Sturm, "the floor is yours to brief."

"Oh no, Colonel Snow," this is your plan and your show. "I'm just here to go out and pull some triggers."

"Roger that, Sir," I say with a smile. "Alright everybody, listen up!" I scream to get the crowd's attention. "You all should have been briefed the initial plan by your team leader already. They'll go over specific considerations and tactics for your individual districts in the air en route to the objective. No matter what happens, remember the key tasks: Disrupt the enemy formations, gather as much actionable intelligence as you can on the ground, and do your damndest to kick their asses back across the ocean where they belong!" A quick roar erupts from the raiders before a wave of my right arm silences them again.

"We're under attack, ladies and gentlemen. This is not just a drill. This is_ real_. Those brainwashed TEC zombies are landing in our country, within our borders, among our homes, friends, and family. Our parents fought for the freedom of this country just a generation ago! Their sacrifice will mean nothing, if we are not victorious today. We fail in this fight and we not only fail ourselves, we fail them, and we will also fail our children. I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna let that happen.

"Remember, if you get overwhelmed, fall back and call for reinforcements. Do not under any circumstances let them push you back out of the District. Maneuver if you have to, but keep your eyes on the enemy at all times. Team Leaders, let's mount up!" Instantly Marbury and Tacker order their soldiers onto their respective waiting hovercraft. Sturm walks up to me.

"'Our_ parents_ fought for the freedom of this country a generation ago?' You young whipper-snapping son of a…" he says with a chuckle as he holds out his hand.

"Hey, Sir, I'm just telling it like it is." I reach up and shake back.

"Just because I'm old doesn't mean I still can't kick your ass."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good luck, Ares, May the odds be ever in your favor."

"And to you as well, Sir." I pause. "If, I don't come back…." I pause to gather my words. "Please tell my family how much I loved them and make sure Lizzy and Octavian are taken care of."

"Of course, Colonel. I'd know you'd do the same for me."

With one last nod of understanding between us, he runs to join his soldiers. I turn toward my own ship, but am interrupted before I can board.

"Colonel Snow!" I recognize the voice.

_"Now? Really?"_ I turn around. "Yes, Mr. Hawthorne…" I immediately stop my condescending tone when I see the serious emotional turmoil on his face.

"Just tell me two things…." He says holding back tears.

"Alright."

"First….is she safe?"

"It's Katniss, Gale. Wherever she is, is the safest possible place. That's why I trusted her and Peeta with Lizzy and Octavian."

"Then you don't know Katniss like I do. I swear trouble finds her like a compass points north." We both manage a chuckle.

"What else did you want to know?" He swallows hard and glances off towards the ceiling. It's like he can't bear to look me in the face. Finally, he manages to choke out the words:

"Is….is she happy…with him?"

"What do you want me to say, Gale?"

"Just the truth." I don't hesitate.

"Yes, she's very happy with Peeta." A single tear is finally able to push its way down his face. He quickly wipes it away.

"Do they have children?"

"Yes, two. A girl and a boy." He shakes his head a few times.

"She told me….that she was never going to have children…with anyone."

He steps backward as if he's afraid to show his back to me, but finally turns and leaves.

For a few seconds, I actually feel some sympathy, but soon remember who I'm thinking about. I can't let a love-lorn arms-dealer cloud my judgment. I won't even let my own wife and child into my thoughts right now. If I really love them, I'll stay focused on the fight and come back to them alive and unharmed. I climb up the ramp and yell to the pilots:

"Let all the other team leaders know: Move, move now!"

The roar of the engines begins. The four assault ships, laden with their deadly cargo of men and materiel lift into the air. They clear the hangar doors and climb into the golden rays of the setting sun before racing to the four corners of Panem.


	33. In Shadow's Light Chapter 5

District 6 is an amazing dichotomy of opposites. Ninety percent of the land is pristine wilderness dotted with green verdant forest and sandy coastline. The other ten percent is industrial wasteland. The land of the District is divided between two peninsulas set among the five inland seas of Panem. The larger one in the south is shaped like a large mitten and borders the wind turbine covered plains of District 5. Most of the industry is here due to the access to 5's power grids and the direct harbor access to the southern inland sea. The northern peninsula is mostly wild timberland which juts out east from District 7. No one is really sure what lies to the north of the inland seas. Since the rise of Panem, this area has simply been known as "The Canada." Early pioneers attempting to claim that land for the Districts would return totally out of their minds, telling stories of monstrous beasts and fiercely territorial feral tribes of cannibals who roam primeval forests and frozen wastelands, kill outsiders on sight, and eat the bodies of their conquered enemies with maple syrup. We chalked these tales mostly to ghost stories. The sad truth is that there are simply not enough people left in North America after all the wars and famines to settle the massive unknown frontier.

What we do know of District 6 before the wars was that it was already a hub of transportation half a millennia ago. Ancestors of the current residents even built a canal connecting the inland seas of Panem to the Atlantic Ocean. After the great wars destroyed what was left of the ancient settlements, the government of Panem moved in and forced the inhabitants to create a new city of factories and use their ancient knowledge to build everything from cars, to trains, hovercraft, and even war machines. The Panem tank arsenal, the only major military factory located outside of Districts 2 and 3 was constructed adjacent to Fort Henry Ford (a large maneuver complex named after some long forgotten native hero of District 6 that only they remember). During the Revolution, the seizure of the largely intact arsenal by the rebels was a major blow to the Capitol and a giant step towards victory. It was here that I spent many years of my youth training in the art of armored warfare, learning to maneuver tanks and armored personnel carriers through rough terrain, thick forest, and the abandoned ruins of an ancient city that the locals called, "Detroyte."

About an hour out from our target, I click on the intelligence terminal in the hovercraft and get the latest reports on the battlefield from the Capitol and what is left of Fort Henry Ford. TEC forces attacking 6 had a distinct advantage over the other enemy divisions in that they flew their hovercraft over "the Canada" and arrived mostly intact. However, I don't think they were expecting such heavy resistance from the armored forces of Fort Henry Ford which have pushed the invaders off the open ground and into the actual city of District 6. Here among the skyscrapers and civilians, the effectiveness of the tanks has been largely neutralized by the TEC's use of anti-armor rockets and the danger of killing our own people still taking cover within the city. I patch in a link to Central Briefing to speak with President Holmes. She grew up here, survived the Revolution here, and hopefully has some good ideas of how to fight this fight.

"Are you seeing this, Ma'am?" I ask over the video link.

"Yes, Colonel. We were just able to speak with Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, Commander of Fort Henry Ford. He's on the front line and is expecting your arrival. He's ringed the city with tanks and trapped the TECs inside, but is having to press the attack with ground forces because we've ordered him not to use heavy armor where it risks harming our own civilians."

"Are you sure that's a wise idea, Ma'am?" I ask hesitantly. I already know what her answer will be.

"That is not debatable, Colonel Snow. Do you understand? I don't want a single unnecessary death."

"Understood, Ma'am. Do you have any other suggestions then? I know it's your old backyard." President Holmes brings up a digital map on her screen and mine.

"According to Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, it looks like the TECs have set up their headquarters in the Justice Building here," she points to a grid square on the map. The infantry of Fort Henry Ford are trying to push towards it, but they're meeting heavy resistance from enemy rocket and machine gun teams that have occupied the worker's housing sector. If you look here, you'll see a string of apartment buildings and warehouses here along the waterfront of this canal. If you stay to the west of the warehouses, you should be able to be shielded by the canal to your left from any kind of automatic weapons fire or attack from the apartment buildings. The Peacekeepers tried the same tactics that TEC appears to be using now. It's how we were able to seize the Justice Building back during the Revolution. Hopefully, history books about the tactics of the UDP rebels aren't required reading in the TEC and lightening will strike twice."

"I doubt many history books are required reading for them," I say flippantly. "At least any history books with real history in them…"

"Also, something else, Colonel Snow…it looks like the TECs are starting to pull workers out of their buildings and are forcing them toward the Justice Building."

"Human shields?" I ask remembering the tragedy in front of the Presidential Mansion twenty-six years before that took the life of Prim Everdeen.

"We don't know. Just be extremely careful, Colonel. You don't know what kind of situation you'll be facing when you get on the ground."

"Oh, you know me, Madame President. 'Careful is my middle name.""

"Then I must be mistaken. I can't possibly be talking with Colonel Ares Snow." I manage some laughter.

"Alright, Ma'am. I got it. But you wouldn't want me on this job if you thought I couldn't get it done right?"

"As much as it pains me to admit it…you're right. Just do the deed, Ares, and come back. I doubt this will all be over quickly and I need my best intact."

"I'm flattered, Ma'am." I see her actually smile a bit through the video link.

"Well, before you get to cocky, we just received another update from General Sturm. He's been fighting on the ground in District 2 for over an hour and has almost broken through to the TEC headquarters. He wanted me to tell you, 'Let Snow know that I may be old , but I can still fight better than that little wet behind the ears…" she coughs uncomfortably before she says the next words, "…little wet behind the ears, mother fuc….' His words, not mind, Colonel." I laugh the hardest I have in a awhile. "Are you gonna let him talk about you like that or are you gonna prove him wrong?"

"Let's just say Sturm and I will have a lot to discuss when this is all over and we get back to the Capitol."

"Then get going! I'll talk to you again when the 'Mockingjay and Stripes' is flying over the District 6 Justice Building again!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" the video-link cuts out as she hangs up. I run to the cockpit and brief the pilots on the course action I've decided.

"We'll fly in low over the inland sea. TEC forces should be mostly concerned with the ground forces to the west and hopefully won't notice a lone hovercraft coming in from the east."

I then point out on the digital map where Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is located in the streets southwest of the Justice Building.

"There's heavy crossfire coming in across this square," I say to the captain of the hovercraft and his co-pilot, "but we need to link-up with the ground commander here to help guide us in to the objective. We'll do a hard drop over the square and then you can cut back out to the southeast and then support us as a fires platform and communication relay back to the Capitol. Understand?"

"Yes Sir!" the pilot says as he nods his head.

A few minutes later, we're skimming eight hundred feet over the black water of the inland sea below. Through the viewscreen, we can see the orange glow of the fires burning in city of District 6 as the battles rage through the streets. The crackling radio transmissions of the desperate infantry come through our headsets as they scream to each other, trying to get into position to attack the fierce defense of the TECs dug into the buildings around them. The frustrated tankers yell back, begging for permission to push into the city and assist in the fight, but another voice keeps telling most of them to stay back.

_"Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle,"_ I can even tell through the radio how frustrated he is that most of his heaviest forces are being left out of the fight, but a direct command from the President can't be easily ignored. _"I'll say one thing for this guy, he can certainly follow orders better than I can…"_

We fly over the harbor and see the tiny forms of armored TEC infantry dug into positions below. We begin to receive erratic machine gun and rocket fire, but the enemy is spread out and little threat to us. The pilot arms his missile pods and makes quick work of them below. I must admit, it is very satisfying in a guilty sort of way to see enemies who were shooting at you a few seconds ago suddenly disappear into a cloud of smoke and flame.

We begin weaving our way through the skyscrapers toward Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's transponder signal. The sound of sporadic gunfire begins to ricochet off the hull of our ship. I guess our enemies want us to go down in flames, but we're not worried. The armor on this assault hovercraft is more than thick enough to stop bullets. Below, UDP infantry and armored personnel carriers are beginning to get the upper hand on the TECs. We can see that our guys and gals below are encouraged by the sight of a friendly hovercraft. I wish we could give them more help, but we're here to go for the Justice Building.

On the south side of a square fifteen blocks from the waterfront, we find Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's convoy. We can see him dismounted next to an armored personnel carrier and he is flanked by two tanks providing security. Unfortunately, they are limited to firing only their machine guns among the apartment buildings. Their devastating main cannons remain silent.

I give my final commands to the pilot and then run back to the crew compartment in the rear of the hovercraft. I find the rest of the platoon making final preparations to their equipment. Everyone checks to see that their weapons are loaded and oiled, their gear is strapped to them tightly, and that their night vision glasses work properly.

I grab my own gear and begin to strap it on. Full body armor and helmet are part of the package this time.

_"Hopefully, Ohm's magic bullets aren't part of the TEC forces new standard issue…" _Finally, I take my place in the front of the crew compartment as the pilot signals from the cockpit that he's ready. We'll only have about ten seconds hovering above the square before we become too big a target for enemy rockets and the pilots will have to bug out. I click the lights in the troop compartment from white to red and go through the final announcements.

"Ten seconds till hard drop!" I yell out to the platoon.

_"Ten seconds till hard drop!"_ they repeat after me. We all line up at ten hatches, five on each side of the hovercraft. All of us are nervous…especially me. Even though I've done a hard drop a million times in training, I've never actually done one while being shot at.

The reason that this particular landing method is called, "a hard drop" is that there is absolutely nothing preventing you from slamming into the ground except for your own skill. We feel the hovercraft stabilize into a straight hover.

"Standby!"

The hatches swing open and the wind from the engines fills the compartment. Ten, black ropes release from the sides of the hovercraft and uncoil the one hundred feet down to the ground. The ropes swing in the breeze five feet in front of us, and would be absolutely invisible in the blackness of the night without night vision glasses. Only one thing remains: jumping out with all your gear into mid-air, clearing the sides of the hovercraft, grabbing the rope without letting go, and then sliding down to the very bottom. Better jump just right: too short or too far and it's a very long way down to the ground…

The TECs on the ground have already started to fire at us. We have to move now.

"_This is it…" _one more deep breath. "GO!"


	34. In Shadow's Light Chapter 6

I leap out into the darkness, flying forward towards the rope. Even though in reality it's only for the briefest of seconds, time seems to slow to a stop. Breath seems trapped in my lungs as my organs leap to my throat in the feeling of weightlessness. I stretch my arms out in midair while registering the rapport of the machine guns firing below me in the square. My brain hears the sound of their rounds as they sizzle past my ears. In short, _I'm terrified _but I can't let myself fail.

Just as I fear that my flailing arms will miss their target, I feel the smooth surface of the rope slam into my palms. My hands latch onto it, I kick my feet together along its length, and I begin to slide down to the earth. Time begins moving at normal speed again, and my diaphragm can finally push the trapped air from my chest. I scan over my shoulders to the left and right and see that the rest of my platoon is sliding to the earth right along with me.

As soon as I hit the ground, I push the rope away from me and begin to run towards Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's tanks. The square is filled with the burning hulks of cars whose flickering light bounces off the darkened sides of the surrounding buildings, but the power has still been cut to the street lights and the majority of the space is still in night's blackness. My night vision glasses reveal piles of other debris throughout the square that I use for cover as TEC rounds continue to skip off the asphalt around me. I look back behind me again, the sergeants have gathered the last of the platoon together and are guiding them right in behind me.

As the last friendly soldier hits the earth, I hear a radio transmission come over the earpiece in my helmet.

"Slicer 6, this is Hawk Flight, we are empty, request permission to bug out to the east and stand by on station."

"Hawk Flight, this is Slicer 6," I yell back into my mic, "roger you are cleared out. Standby on station for possible close air support missions."

"Roger 6, this is Hawk Flight, heading out. _Good Hunting_." The hovercraft's engines rev and he shoots out of the square back towards the waterfront kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. The platoon and I are now alone in the square with Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's convoy and the TECs in the buildings.

I see a burned out train of trolley cars that has been blown off its track about fifty meters in front of us. It will be a quick run from there over to Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's position and the cars will be good cover for everybody else while the two of us come up with the next move.

"Sergeant Denali!" I yell to a soldier a few feet away from me.

"Yes Sir," he shouts back over the cacophony of the gun fire around us.

"Follow me to the trolley! Get everyone under cover."

"Roger Sir, we're right on your ass!"

Dipping and dodging through the maze of debris and TEC bullets, the entire platoon makes it behind the trolley without suffering a single casualty. I give control of the men over to Sergeant Denali before breaking into a run towards the tanks.

I find Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle huddled behind his vehicle as rounds impact around him. He is angry that his infantry have not managed a breakthrough this far forward yet.

"I don't want excuses, Captain! There's no reason that you shouldn't be up to the square by now! I made it, didn't I?" His dark, smooth skin and rounded features are characteristic of most people from District 6. In fact, his brown eyes remind me a little of President Holmes.

"_Maybe he and Driva are distantly related,"_ I briefly muse in my head. "Now, don't you think you might be being a little hard on him?" I yell to LaSalle with a strong touch of sarcasm. He turns and finally sees me.

"Sir!" he screams back over the ongoing deafening symphony of metal striking metal. I've met LaSalle once before at a conference of mechanized officers in the Capitol a few years back. I think it genuinely annoys him that I'm ten years younger than he is, but still outrank him. But again, to his credit, he has never once shown a lapse of professionalism when in my presence. Therefore, I always at least _try_ to return the favor. "President Holmes told me to be expecting you. Hell of day, isn't it?"

"That's for damn sure. So what's the latest update?"

"Well, Sir, the TECs are dug in hard to that apartment building in the square. They've got rocket grenadier teams on the top floors that we can't get a shot on. However, those bastards are making it impossible for my infantry to advance any further than three blocks to our southeast without being blown to pieces."

"Yeah, we saw 'em flying in. Looked like they were taking a bit of a beating but were holding their own." I pull out my digital map and highlight the route that President Holmes suggested. LaSalle agrees that it's the best way to the Justice Building but emphasizes that the building in front of us is effectively a road block.

"It's no use, Sir! We've got nothing down here that can take out those rocket teams."

"Are you sure about that?" I gesture to the tank still laying down machine gun fire next to us.

"No Sir! Absolutely Not! President Holmes explicitly said 'No main gun in the city.'"

"I never said that I was going to use the main gun…" I say trailing off as I start to climb onto the steel beast.

"Sir! What about civilian casualties?" Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is starting to get upset.

"Didn't you report to President Holmes that the TECs were pulling all the civilians out of these buildings?"

"Well, yes but…"

"Did they pull all the civilians out of that building?"

"Yes Sir, but…"

"If I can't get to the Justice Building to rescue them back from the TECs, then what's the point? We'll rebuild. That's what victory is," I say jumping up on top of the turret and banging on the commander's hatch. The confused sergeant inside opens up and stares at me.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Well, yes you can, Sergeant." I reach inside, grab him by the arms and pull him up and out of the turret. "I'm gonna need to borrow your tank for a few minutes."

"Sir, what the hell are you doing!" He yells angrily, but he's smart enough not to start swinging back against a high ranking officer. I gently push him off the back of the turret and down to the ground. "Sir, you can't do this, I'm signed for this tank!" he yells back up at me.

"I assure you, you'll get it back without a…." I pause carefully. "Well, I'm sure any scratches will just buff right out."

"Sir…" I slam the hatch closed before he completes his next sentence. The poor gunner and driver still inside the vehicle are confused into speechlessness.

"How're you gentlemen doing?" I ask trying to stay light hearted. "Actually, Gunner, it may be better for you if you step outside as well." He just nods nervously, pops his hatch, and jumps out to join the commander.

"Um Sir…" I hear a voice in my headset as I reach over and close the gunner's hatch.

"Is that you, Driver?" I ask back.

"Yes Sir. What are exactly are we doing?"

"Do you trust me, Driver?"

"Hell No, Sir!"

"Good, an honest man, I can respect that. To answer your question…." I scan the turret sights over to the front door of the building across the square. "Check your display down there. Do you see these doors?"

"Yes Sir."

"Alright, when I say 'move out' slam it to full throttle, head straight at those doors, and don't stop until I tell you to. Simple right?"

"WHAT! That will bring the building straight down on top of us."

"Now, you're getting it! But the building will only fall straight down on us if you don't go fast enough, so be sure you really hit that gas."

"Have you ever done this before, Sir?" I remember using _Tracks_ against Ohm's gate last year.

"_In theory_…yes."

"What do you mean _'in theory?'_"

"Well, I wasn't inside the tank at the time, but the concept is still sound…MOVE OUT!" The driver slams his foot down on the accelerator. I feel the turbines rev and the tank shoots forward.

"Sir, I really don't know about this…"

"Just don't slow down! Keep going faster and stay perfectly straight."

"Sir!" I can tell he's getting nervous, but it's essential he not deviate at all.

"DON'T STOP! DON'T TURN! KEEP GOING!" The doorway looms larger and larger. We're just a few seconds away from impact. I can hear the driver screaming in my headset. I wince, hoping that we're moving fast enough.

"_CRASH!"_ The tank slams through the front doors and keeps going. Clouds of dust, shattered pieces of wood, and crushed concrete collapse onto the armor outside of us, totally covering our viewports and blinding us. We can feel ourselves slicing through the building supports but have no idea what's really going on.

"Sir!" the driver screams in panic.

"Don't you dare turn one degree! We have to punch out the other side before the building comes down or else we'll be digging our way out with our bare hands, understand?"

Finally, we feel the tank blast through the far side wall of the building and burst back into the open.

"HARD LEFT!" I scream. The driver instinctually slams the steering yolk over and pivot steers almost ninety degrees instantly. "GO! GO!" Even through the thick armor of the tank, I can hear the groaning and screeching of the building next to us. We're running out of time. "ANOTHER HARD LEFT!" The driver slams the yolk over again and sends us skidding back into the square. "STRAIGHT, STRAIGHT, STRAIGHT!" Finally I hear the building's supports give way. I scan behind us with the turret just in time to see the entire apartment building, TEC soldiers and all, collapse into a huge cloud of wreckage and dust. The square has been cleared and LaSalle's infantry are safe to move into the square.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT COLONEL SNOW!" I hear President Holmes screaming into my headset over the radio. "I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT…" I click off the radio.

"_She's a little too upset to talk to right now…maybe later."_

Slowly, the driver brings the tank to a halt right next to LaSalle's other vehicles. Before I pop the hatch, I reach down from the turret into the driver's compartment. My brave companion is shaking like a leaf as I pat him on the shoulder.

"You did a great job, Soldier."

"Thhhh…Thhhhannk you, Sir." I climb out of the tank without ever have seen his face. Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is livid when I hit the ground next to him.

"President Holmes is blowing up the radio, Sir. She's going to kill you when this is over…"

"Well, then it shouldn't be any of your concern anyway!" I signal for Sergeant Denali to move the platoon up to my position. "Bring your infantry forward and let's get this done."

"Yes Sir…." he trails off, knowing it won't do him any good to argue. Vaguely, in the background, I hear the tank commander cursing my name.

"Sir! What did you do my tank? It'll never be the same…"

I do my best to ignore him and as soon my platoon is formed up, I give LaSalle his last orders.

"Cordon off the Justice Building with your infantry. Don't let anyone get out. I'll take my commandos in and capture the TEC leadership. Also, we'll figure out exactly what the hell they're doing with a thousand District 6 civilians up there."

"Understood, Sir."

I signal to Sergeant Denali and we're off.

"Oh, and LaSalle, one more thing…"

"Yes Sir?" he grumbles back at me.

"After President Holmes gets done with me, if I end up working for you….remember, I always thought you were a really outstanding human being." Slowly a grin creeps across his face and then he bursts out laughing.

"Sir, if you end up working for me, I'll always remember just how much guts you really have, Ares 'The Human Wrecking Ball' Snow." I join him in the laugh.

"_Another nickname,"_ I think. _"Actually, I like 'God of War' better. Seems more dignified…"_

"I'll see you on the other side, Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, _if I survive…"_

"Same to you, Sir."


	35. In Shadow's Light Chapter 7

As the rest of the platoon and I push past the mountain of rubble that used to the apartment building, we see the canal that President Holmes described to me over the video-link. I motion for the others to follow me and we move carefully along the water's edge, keeping the warehouses to our right. We scan the rooftops with our weapons anticipating an attack, and unfortunately don't have to wait long. Only about a quarter mile from the square, we start taking machine gun and rocket fire from the rooftops.

I dive for cover behind a concrete retaining wall and order the rest of the platoon to do the same. Sergeant Denali runs over to me as a few of the others try to futilely return fire.

"Sir, what do we do? We're totally pinned down!"

"We do this, Sergeant," I say keying the radio in my helmet. "Hawk Flight, this is Slicer 6."

"Slicer 6, Hawk Flight. Go ahead."

"Roger, beaucoup bad guys on the rooftops of the warehouses to my northeast. You got eyes on?"

"Standby." My earpiece goes silent for a moment. I know that the pilots are repositioning their optics for a better view. The thermal scopes they have in their cockpit can see a fly land on piece of garbage from five miles away. "Slicer 6, Hawk Flight, roger we got eyes on about fifty bandits, broken up into fire teams along the five warehouse rooftops all the way to the Justice Building. Need a little help?" the pilot says with a cool assurance that guys on the ground like me love to hear.

"If you don't mind." I pull out a small box from my pocket that looks like a flashlight. "Night vision glasses up! Night vision glasses up!" I scream to the rest of the platoon. The command is echoed down the line and then I click the box to on. "Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, friendly positions marked by IR strobe."

"Roger, Hawk Flight, we are inbound. Standby." The box I pulled from my pocket is an infrared strobe light. Completely invisible to the naked eye, it sends out an intense pulse of infrared light visible in night vision glasses up to several thousand feet in the air. "Slicer 6, Hawk Flight," the pilot's voice crackles again in my earpiece, "I copy your strobe. We are wings level."

"Roger, Hawk Flight, you are _cleared hot_! Bring the rain!" I wave my hand over my head violently. "Everybody down! Everybody down!" The entire platoon dives into the ground, kissing mother earth as closely they can without digging a hole. I turn to Sergeant Denali. "You've ever seen a close-air support attack run in real life?"

"No Sir," he replies nervously. A grin creeps across my face.

"Well then, get ready for a religious experience." We hear the engines of the hovercraft in the distance. The quiet hum grows rapidly into a deafening roar as the ship screams in from the south at top speed only a few hundred feet above the ground. The TECs on the rooftops helplessly try to fire back as the hovercraft's four 25 millimeter cannons and heavy machine guns open up on them in a display that makes even the most spectacular Liberation Day Fireworks Show look like child's play in comparison. We see the blasts from the high-explosive shells rip the roofs of the warehouses to pieces in bright flashes of smoke and fire. The bodies of TEC soldiers are blown fifty feet into the air before they disappear into the darkness. As the hovercraft vanishes toward the north, the platoon and I are left to marvel at the sheer destructive force of what we just called in. I click the IR strobe off before scanning the rooftops with my night vision glasses. I see no movement among the flickering flames of the devastated rooftops: _not a single thing up there is left alive._ As the rest of the platoon begins to hoot and holler like a bunch of stupid school children, I scream for them to knock it off.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, I'm not seeing any movement up there. You see any left intact?"

"Slicer 6, Hawk Flight, negative I don't copy any movement but…." His transmission abruptly cuts off.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6." Still nothing. "Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, I lost you there." Nothing.

"HAWK FLIGHT, SLICER 6!"

"Roger, Slicer 6…It's just we're not really sure what we're seeing at the Justice Building right now."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got TECs moving on the ground down there, and we've got three massive TEC transport hovercraft that are landed directly in front of the steps…"

"Can you engage?" I ask hopefully.

"Negative, Slicer 6. We've got probably about five hundred civilians down there." My heart drops.

"Are they being used as shields?"

"Negative 6, you really need to get over here…_rapidly_."

"Hawk flight, Slicer 6, moving now! Keep eyes on!" I scream for the rest of the platoon to follow me and we sprint the remaining ten blocks to the Justice Building. With the TEC fire teams destroyed by the airstrike, there's no point in being careful if it's as bad as the hovercraft is reporting.

We reach the edge of Justice Building Square and we are floored by what we see. Just as the pilots reported, three massive transport hovercraft, emblazoned with the TEC seal, are lined up side by side. Each of the ships is at least three hundred yards long and about fifty yards tall. Their massive outlines completely block out the sky. About a hundred TEC Soldiers guard a few hundred District 6 civilians. Men, women, and children, most still dressed in their pajamas, are being herded like cattle up the loading ramps.

The TECs are dressed in their trademark blue armor from head to toe. Each appears like a completely inhuman robot. Not even the smallest piece of skin is exposed to indicate otherwise. Even their faces are completely hidden behind black visors encased in blue ballistic plastic helmets. Wives scream as the soldiers rip them away from their husbands. Children bawl with hopeless tears as they are pulled out of their mother's and father's arms. The TECs understand and care nothing about family. Their family is their state and their state alone. Quite simply, it may be the most tragic thing that I have ever witnessed in my life.

One of the guards spots us standing at the edge of the square and opens fire. The platoon and I dive for cover behind some scattered debris. A few of my soldiers try to shoot back, but I order them to stop.

"Cease Fire! Cease Fire, dammit! There's too many innocent people over there!" So, as we are pinned down, we watch helplessly as the last of the District 6 civilians are loaded onto the ships. The massive engines roar to life, shaking the very ground like an earthquake before the transports climb slowly straight into the sky and disappear to the east.

"Fire! Fire now!" the rest of the platoon begins shooting. TEC soldiers begin to fall left and right.

I key my radio again.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6!"

"Go ahead 6!"

"Can you see the hovercraft that just lifted off from the Justice Building?"

"Roger, we got a clear shot. Do you want us to take them down?"

"Negative, negative! They're loaded with about a thousand innocent civilians. Where they headed?"

"Northeast, straight toward, "The Canada." We can try to pursue, but we don't have the fuel to tail them for long and those things can fly clear around the world and back."

"Negative, Hawk Flight, do not pursue." I realize that it's hopeless. Any realistic attempt to stop the hovercraft would just result in the deaths we are trying so hard to prevent. Those people are at the mercy of the TEC now…and it sickens me to know that I'm too late. I click my radio to an emergency broadcast channel. "This is Colonel Ares Snow to all UDP air defense batteries around District 6. Do not engage three TEC transports that are currently exiting District 6. I say again, do not engage three TEC transports that are currently exiting District 6. Those ships are loaded with UDP civilians." I receive an acknowledgement from Air Defense Command in my headset before my attention turns back to the remaining TECs in the square. I feel the anger and rage rising inside me now.

"Let's go get some payback!" I scream as I order the platoon forward. The TECs left behind are obviously poorly trained compared to my soldiers. In a few minutes, we've forced them back inside the Justice Building.

With Sergeant Denali right behind me, I lead an entrance team to the front doors. A quick check reveals they have bolted it shut from the inside: _a last stand._ These enemies realized that there was no going home for them, and probably don't care as long as it means dying for their Supreme Lawgiver.

I motion for a breach man to come up. He pulls a small explosive charge from his vest and straps it to the heavy wooden doors. He nods when he's ready. I raise my rifle to my shoulder and give a single nod back. His finger presses the detonator and the charge blows the doors off their hinges with a tremendous boom. Before the TECs inside have a chance to recover from the shock, I surge forward with my team behind me.

There is no electricity and the inside is black as pitch, but my trusty night vision glasses don't fail. I pull the trigger on a TEC standing stunned directly in the doorway and he collapses to the ground. I whip to my left, spot another enemy hiding in the corner, and make quick work of him as well. Sergeant Denali blasts another one in the far right of the room who was moving his weapon up to engage me. The third soldier inside scores a kill on an enemy crouched at the top of the main staircase.

"Room Clear?" I shout to my team.

"Room clear," they reply as they scan their corners.

I give a hand signal to get back into a stack and we move up the staircase. More of my soldiers run into the building to clear the remaining rooms on the ground floor while we clear the top floor. As we move, scanning the top of the staircase, the sound of UDP rifles firing away lets us know they're doing their job well.

The rest of the rooms above are empty. Finally, we reach what must be the mayor's office because the elaborate mahogany door is emblazoned with the Seal of District 6. I look to Sergeant Denali who gives me a nod of readiness. I rear back and kick the door with all my might. It flies open revealing a single TEC soldier standing behind a huge desk in the darkness. His blue armor has gold stripes up the arms and he pulls out a pistol from a holster on his side.

_"An officer….like me."_

_Unlike me_, however, my counterpart never has a chance to fire his weapon. I let loose a burst right into his chest. He collapses backward onto the ground as we pour in to clear the rest of the space.

"Room Clear?"

"Room Clear."

We relax a little and I motion for Sergeant Denali to come with me. The two of us walk over to the officer. He is lying on his back in a pool of blood, but we can see he's still breathing. I kneel down next to him as Sergeant Denali raises his weapon to cover me.

I carefully reach down and yank the officer's helmet off his head. He's young…_very young_ like me. A little trickle of blood dribbles down his ghostly pale cheek and the stubbly remains of his blond hair are drenched in sweat, but what strikes me the most are his piercing blue eyes that stare at me with a hatred so deep that it chills me to the core. If Ohm was a psychotic genius, then this man is a wild animal who knows that he has been trapped by the hunter.

For a few seconds, we just stare at each other in silence. Finally, I muster the courage to ask a single question:

"Why are you here?" Suddenly, he opens his mouth and flicks one of his canine teeth with his tongue. It dislodges and he bites down on hard it.

"No!" I shout as I realize what it is…._cyanide._

The officer raises his arms above his head in his nation's traditional victory sign because for him, dying for the Supreme Lawgiver _is_ a victory.

"Unus Europa…." A disgusting white foam begins to pour from his mouth. "Sub…unus…rector…" his lifeless head falls to the ground.

I walk back out into the square. Even though we have successfully driven the TEC out of District 6, it doesn't feel like a victory. So many innocents were abducted, and since we have no prisoners, we have no idea why. I have the hovercraft send me the latest reports from around Panem.

The story is the same in all three other districts. The TECs abducted the people, fled, and left the remainder of their forces to die. I'm confused and furious at the same time.

"_What are you doing, Rikard? What is your plan this time?"_

Suddenly, my communicuff beeps. It's President Holmes.

"_Uh oh…she's probably not too happy at me for hanging up on her earlier."_

"Ma'am, it's Colonel Snow. I am very sorry for what happened earlier with the apartment building, but I felt it was the only way…" She cuts me off with a deep sadness in her voice that I have never heard from her before.  
>"Colonel….General Sturm is dead."<p> 


	36. In Shadow's Light Chapter 8

I feel like I'm going to throw up. My knees begin to visibly shake and I have to steady myself to prevent from falling over. Through my spinning head, I'm finally able to manage a single word:

"How?" President Holmes seems as shaken as I am on the other end of the line.

"General Sturm's last report was that he made contact with the TEC command element in District 2 just outside of Ohm's factory. They were forcing workers from the plant into transport hovercraft. Reports are spotty, but from what we can figure out. He was leading his team forward to try to stop the TECs, when he took an enemy bullet through the chest. The medics tried to revive him, but he was already gone…"

_"He was trying to do what I couldn't…save those people."_ Now, I know I'm going to throw up. I drop to my knees and stare down at the ground before heaving the contents of my stomach all over the pavement.

"Sir!" Sergeant Denali screams as he sees me. Before he runs over, I hold up my hand and wave him away. I definitely don't want to talk to anyone else right now. President Holmes hears me getting sick over the communicuff.

"Snow…Snow! Are you alright, Colonel?"

"I'm fine," I say cutting her off.

_I lied._ I'm nowhere near fine right now. In the last year, Sturm had become more of a mentor and friend that I could ever have hoped for. To lose him like this, just seems so unfair to the both of us.

"Did he…Did he at least save any of the civilians?" I hear President Holmes sigh mournfully.

"No….he didn't. The TECs fought the rest of Sturm's platoon back as they were trying to rescue him." I slam my fist into the ground in blind rage.

"_Dammit, no! He can't be gone!"_

"Colonel Snow," Holmes says cutting into my focus. "I'm on my way to an emergency session of the legislature. By tomorrow evening, there will be a vote…and I need you back in the Capitol immediately."

"For what?'" I ask angrily.

"For an announcement. I'll be expecting you."

"Can we at least bury the dead before we play politics, Driva?" I realize as soon as I said it that this was very cruel to her.

"Somebody has to play politics right now, Ares! Millions around Panem are in a panic and need leadership. This battle isn't just about _you_."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"Don't worry. General Sturm will be laid to rest with full military honors as soon as possible. Just get back here."

"I'm on my way…" My communicuff cuts off. I climb to my feet and see Sergeant Denali and Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle standing over me with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you sure you're alright, Sir?" LaSalle asks.

"Yes," I say before changing the subject. "Can you two handle things here? I've just been ordered to get back to the Capitol at once."

"Yes, Sir. We've got this wrapped up," LaSalle says with admirable confidence. "After all, _we'll rebuild. That's what victory is…"_ I manage a grin in his direction.

"Sergeant Denali, get the hovercraft refueled and it back here immediately to pick me up."

"Roger Sir, will we be heading back with you?"

"No, stay here in 6 and assist Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's forces in any way they need. This mission is just for me."

Half an hour later, I'm alone in the dark troop bay of the hovercraft flying toward the southwest. I stare at the bulkhead across from me, lost in my painful thoughts.

"_How can we win this fight without our best leader? He was gruff, he was angry, but he was a warrior…"_

Panem is fast running out of its old heroes. First, there was Ohm's betrayal. Now with the death of Sturm, who will the people look to when they think of the glory of the Revolution? The Victors of the Games of course, but as Katniss reminded me, all they want now is to live what's left of their lives in solitude and peace.

"_Of course, they've earned it…"_

Suddenly, I remember the Mockingjay pin. My hand feels it on my shirt, still safe and sound. Gently, I unpin it from the fabric and run it through my fingers for a few seconds. It is just a simple piece of gold, unremarkable in every way, except for the carnage that it has survived. However, this little piece of metal means more to the people of Panem than their lives. It is a symbol of the Revolution and the sacrifice made to earn them their freedom, and now I hold it in my hands. _The Revolution is in my hands._

Katniss' words seem ancient now. I cannot believe that she said them to me just this morning; before the attacks and back when this world was still in an all too brief age of peace.

"_This country needs new heroes to look up to…Alright then, Mockingjay, now how the hell am I supposed to be a hero when I'm constantly drowning in my own doubts?"_ I don't think she has an answer for that one.

I grip the pin tightly and lean my head against the bulkhead before realizing that I am totally exhausted. The loud drone of the hovercraft's engines soon lulls me into a deep sleep: one so deep that my nightmares and doubts leave me alone for at least one night.

The jolt of the hovercraft touching down in the hangar brings me back to consciousness. I walk down the ramp and Amelia is there to meet me.

"When was the last time you slept?" I ask her with a smirk. She just shakes her head.

"I don't even remember…"

"Maybe you should fix that."

"I wish I could, Sir, but there's still work to be done. President Holmes left instructions for you. She's still meeting with the closed session of the Legislature and expects to be there until tonight. So, it falls on you to be the senior leader on the ground here when the transport touches down."

"What transport?" I ask angrily.

"You mean she didn't brief you in the air?"

"I might have turned my communicuff off…" Amelia just sighs.

"An honor guard flew to District 2 last night to collect the remains of General Sturm. He will arrive here this afternoon for a state funeral service before returning back to 2 for burial. It's going to be broadcast on the national network so all of Panem can say goodbye. President Holmes wants you to preside over everything."

"WHAT? No, no, _no!_ _I can't_" I cannot afford to let the whole population of the country see me emotionally wrecked when the entire UDP is in the middle of a crisis."

"I'm afraid she was very insistent. She even had a temporary apartment set up for you in the Government District and a tailor will meet you there in an hour to fit you with a new set of dress blacks."

"Amelia, do I look like I can handle that right now?" I half yell and half taunt in her direction. She just looks straight back at me.

"Sir, I don't think it matters what you _'can handle'_ right now. Everyone is panicking, there is chaos in the streets, and what the country needs is to see its leaders clean, confident, and ready. If you can't do that, then maybe you should just not even bother coming to work anymore." She storms away, and I feel one foot tall.

"_Thanks Amelia, glad to know I can still count on you to put my ass back in line when I need it…"_

In less than twelve hours, I go from being shell-shocked and blood-soaked to actually making a decent impression of a spit-and-polished dignified officer. Dress Blacks are not my favorite outfit, but it's the image we need to put on for the country. The tailor actually did a remarkable job. No one would ever know that my uniform was slapped together so quickly. The only addition I made was the Mockingjay pin, which I still display proudly over my formal name plate.

It is only then that I finally realize that this will be my first time displaying my last name to the whole country at once. That little detail, plus the Mockingjay that everyone will recognize from its famous history will no doubt cause a riot among the newscasters covering this event.

_"So much for living a quiet little life after this…"_

The transport hovercraft lands directly in front of the Capitol Cathedral. An honor guard of eight soldiers, all pressed and polished carries the flag-drapped casket of my friend down the ramp and toward the front steps. They pause right on cue.

A band solemnly begins to play the Anthem of the UDP and every person salutes on cue. Halfway through the song, I feel a tear roll down my cheek as I comprehend this will be the last time I ever stand in the presence of General Wade Sturm. I don't wipe it away. Somehow, I feel it would disrespect his incredible memory. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a camera focus onto my face.

_"Let them see. I don't care."_

After the anthem concludes, I lead the honor guard and casket towards the altar of the cathedral. It is almost impossible to comprehend, but in less than eighteen hours, Sturm's memory has motivated people to pack this massive building to the rafters. An ocean of flowers rests in front of the pulpit. So many, in fact, the honor guard has to shift its course in order to respectfully lower the casket onto the stand.

The Head Chaplin of the Defense Ministry gets up and begins the service. I sit behind the pulpit, scanning the crowd as he talks about the meaning of life, death, honor, and sacrifice. To most, those are just words, but to men like General Sturm and me, they are real….and don't need someone in a white vestments to explain them.

In the front row, I suddenly see Gale Hawthorne sitting next to Amelia. Our eyes lock and I am awestruck how he seems to be silently begging me not to judge him right now. He is genuinely crushed by the loss of this man. I then remember how only yesterday the two of them were talking about fighting together during the Revolution. I know I won't say anything to Gale after this. No matter what problems exist between the two of us, I'll let him have his private moment to say goodbye.

"And now…" the Chaplin says concluding his piece of the service, "Colonel Ares Snow, of the Panem Defense Force would like to give a eulogy." He gestures to me and I walk toward the pulpit. I have nothing written down because I have no idea what I'm going to say. I stare out at the sea of mourners and realize that they want to hear something profound and moving. I feel sorry for them, because I just decide to talk about what kind of man my friend was.

"The last words that General Sturm ever said to me were, 'You young whipper snapping son of a…." I pause realizing that I'm in a church on national television, "…gun. May the odds be ever in your favor.' Well, I can say that when you served with General Wade Sturm the odds were always in your favor because you had such a talented and gifted man working at your side. He was a soldier and servant of his country without reproach, but he was so much more than that. He was also a friend, teacher, motivator…_and loving older brother."_ I speak for a few more minutes, telling a couple of stories of how my life will never be the same without him but also how the lessons that he taught me will fight on with me until Panem is once again at safe. As I wrap things up, I look out and see something I never expected. Sure, there was sadness, but in the eyes of the congregation, I also saw the unmistakable light of something better: _hope._

I return to my seat and the honor guard reappears. As they lift the casket off the stand, all of us rise with it and follow Wade Sturm outside toward his waiting hovercraft. We salute once more as he is carried aboard and the hovercraft lifts off for his final voyage back to his home in the mountains. As the ship disappears into the sky, a beautiful image enters my mind. I see a young boy named Wade who has never known pain or hardship, running through a sunny field of green grass toward another younger girl named Lucia. They are reunited after so many years apart and will never be separated again.

_"Rest well, Sir. You've earned it."_

I tried to call Lizzy just before the funeral, but couldn't get through to her, Katniss, or Peeta. Normally, I'd be worried, but considering the TECs didn't go anywhere near District 12 and three quarters of Panem is clogging the phone lines with worried calls to loved ones, I settled on trying again this evening. As the funeral crowd breaks up, all I want to do is return to my temporary apartment, talk to my wife, and crash between the sheets for a few hours…but no such luck.

A message from President Holmes tells me to meet her at the Legislature immediately. Even though it is only three blocks from the cathedral, I still have to take a car with Amelia to avoid the throngs of reporters desperate to get an interview with the enigmatic orating Colonel with Katniss Everdeen's Mockingjay pin and the last name of a former unpopular President. Those questions will have to wait for another day.

As Amelia and I arrive at the Legislature, we meet President Holmes in a private hallway just outside the main chamber.

"Captain Flagg, will you wait for us in there," she says gesturing towards the chamber doors.

"Yes, Ma'am," Amelia says respectfully before leaving us.

"Sorry, I know you must be about to collapse, Ares, but all of us decided to make this announcement to the country tonight without delay."

"And what announcement is that?"

"I think you know…" the look in her eyes says it all. The world is about to change in a big way.

"Understood, Ma'am."

"We actually would have done it sooner, but we had to wait for the guests to arrive."

"What guests?" I ask curiously.

"We thought it was important that Panem stands united for this. So, all of our old heroes will stand shoulder to shoulder with all of our new heroes."

"You mean like General Sturm?"

"Yes, he would have been one of them..."

"You know Ma'am," I say firmly. "Whoever you select to be the next Chief of the UDP Defense Forces will set a major tone for this conflict ahead. He or she can't be a politician…no offense."

"None taken."

" It is just that I want my next boss to be as much a warrior as General Sturm was. I can't work for a wimp."

"Well, luckily for both you and me, that decision is no longer in my hands," she says cheerfully.

"What do you mean?"

"General Sturm actually discussed this issue with me a few weeks ago, and he and I already decided on a replacement."

"And who is that?" I ask very irritated considering he and I never discussed it. President Holmes then pulls something from her pocket and tosses it to me.

"Just be sure you put those on before the announcement in there. I want the nation to know who the new kid in charge is."

I look at a black box in my hands. I open the lid and find two golden clusters of four stars: General's rank insignia."

She turns away from me and walks toward the Legislative Chamber. Without looking back, she smugly shouts one more thing before disappearing through the doors:

"Congratulations, _General_ _Snow_."


	37. In Shadow's Light Chapter 9

President Holmes steps through the chamber doors, leaving me alone. I stare down at the box in my hands to total disbelief. Suddenly, I hear a beautiful voice from behind me.

"_General Snow_…kinda like the sound of that." I turn around to see Lizzy standing there, holding Octavian against her chest. Without thinking, I run toward them and wrap them up in my arms. "Well, Glad to see you too…" Lizzy says surprised at my forwardness.

"No," I say softly. "Just give me a second." I bury my face into her hair and just breathe in her magical scent. The smell of the sea that makes everything else fade away. After a few more moments of quiet bliss, I look up over Lizzy's shoulder to see another family slowly round the corner. Katniss quietly steps forward, not wanting to interrupt my moment. Peeta follows close behind, leading Prim and Haymitch by their hands. I silently mouth the words, "Thank You." Peeta mouths back, "You're Welcome." Katniss just nods.

I lean next to Lizzy's ear and whisper:

"I love you…so much."

"I kinda love you too," she whispers back with a smirk. Suddenly, Octavian begins to fidget in Lizzy's arms. I lean over and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

"And I love you, too, Little Man." The touch seems to calm him down again and Lizzy gently shifts him to her other arm. She catches a glimpse of the Mellarks over her shoulder and they walk up to join the conversation. Katniss immediately notices the Mockingjay pin on my chest.

"How's that working for you?" she says with a smile.

"I think it brought me a lot of luck the last two days." I see Lizzy's brow furrow with tension.

"So…" she says awkwardly.

"Go on, ask it," I say to her. "I know you're dying to know."

"Which one did they send you to?"

"6," I say quietly.

"Was it as bad as they were reporting on the news?" Peeta asks concerned. My response unsettles all of them.

"_Worse…_"

"I was so scared when they reported that General Sturm was killed," Lizzy says despondently. "I figured that you would be with him."

"No," I manage to reply, "He wanted to lead the team to District 2."

"I'm so sorry, Ares. I know how much he meant to you," Lizzy says placing her hand on my chest, "but I was just so happy to see you alive when they broadcast the funeral on the train."

"Yeah, about that," I say annoyed. "What are you doing here? It's not exactly…" I cut myself off when I remember Prim and Haymitch are here and I don't want to scare them. I was going to say "not the safest place," but settle for, "not exactly the quietest place right now."

"Well," Katniss replies, "When you receive a direct request from the President of Panem, you don't exactly ignore it."

"Holmes, asked you to be here?" I ask confused.

"She actually asked both of us to come to the Capitol," Peeta adds. "They even had a special train from District 12 arranged." Suddenly, what Holmes said about having all the old and new heroes standing shoulder to shoulder is starting to make a little more sense.

"Do you know if you were the only ones invited or…"

"Or if all the surviving Victors were invited?" a woman's voice rings out from behind us. "To answer your question, Sir, _yes we were_." She is almost fifty years old, but still has the same striking brown eyes that she did when she made her debut in the Hunger Games three decades ago. I recognize her immediately.

"Hello, Johanna," Katniss says nervously.

"Long time no see, Katniss. Same to you, Peeta."

"It's good to see you, Johanna." She is followed by an older Nordic fellow; tall with light blonde hair, a blond beard, and blue eyes. Johanna gestures to him.

"I'd like to introduce my husband, Thom. I met him when I went back home to District 7. He's one of the best lumberjacks I've ever known, except for me, of course." The rest of us smile politely until Johanna spoils the mood. "Thom, this is Katniss and Peeta, obviously married now with rugrats as well." Prim and Haymitch pull closer to Peeta's side. "Guess, I wasn't important enough to be invited to the wedding." She turns back to Thom. "The three of us used to kill people on television for other people's enjoyment." Thom must be used to such behavior because he doesn't miss a beat and stands there as silently as the trees he cuts down. "You know, we have a daughter as well, but she's much older. Didn't waste any time getting a bun in my oven, Katniss." Katniss just stares back at Johanna unable to say anything. "She's even in the military," Johanna says glancing at my uniform before her gaze shifts over to Lizzy. "Now, _you must_ be an Odair." Johanna says with a not completely benign grin. "I'd recognize one of Finnick's clan anywhere." Lizzy beams back.

"Yes, I'm his niece…but it's _Snow_ now."

"Snow?" Johanna spits back in disbelief.

"Yes, _Snow,_" Lizzy says taking a proud step closer to my side.

"Lizzy," I awkwardly mumble through gritted teeth, but my brave wife is not fazed.

"I heard Annie passed away recently. Is that true?"

"Yes, two years ago…"

"Did she know about him?"

"_Yes_," Lizzy says starting to get angrier.

"That's probably what killed her then…" Lizzy tries to lunge forward, but I hold her back.

"It not worth it, Lizzy. _Calm down_." I whisper. Johanna turns to me next.

"You know, I'm not surprised they let you live…but I really wish they hadn't."

"You don't know him, Johanna!" Peeta shouts at her. Prim and Haymitch jump and run over to Katniss.

"Maybe not, Peeta…but I don't want to try to either."

"Are Beetee and Enobaria coming?" Katniss says angrily.

"Beetee's dead, Katniss! He's been dead for ten years, and Enobaria has been missing for almost twenty! You'd know that if you hadn't lost your mind, broke your promise to me, shot the_ wrong _president, and then went and hid in coal country for over two and half decades. The three of us are the last of our kind!"

"What do you mean Enobaria disappeared?" Peeta asks nervously.

"Nobody knows what happened….well, _almost_ nobody." The way she says 'almost nobody' sets us all on edge. "I have to admit, Enobaria vanishing did wonders for my recovery. She even made a little donation for my wedding to Thom." Johanna holds up her left hand and displays a thin gold band on her ring finger. "After her _retirement_, she didn't need her gold teeth anymore and graciously let me have a few." All of us have our worst suspicions confirmed. Johanna definitely killed her.

"What happened to you, Johanna?" Katniss asks dismayed.

"No, Katniss," she replies quietly. "What happened to you?" She looks down at my uniform and sees the Mockingjay pin above my name plate. "Obviously, you need to rethink who you trust."

"Obviously…" Katniss says staring right back at her.

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Johanna says grabbing Thom's hand, "Let's go and do what we came here for." They walk together and disappear into the Legislative chamber. We all stare at the doors as they close behind the two of them.

"Why did you let her talk to you like that? After everything you've done for this country?" Katniss asks me.

"Because, I know what was done to her…and I'd probably be the same way."

"Hello, Catnip…" When she hears his voice, Katniss freezes solid as a block of ice. It seems the difficult reunions aren't over for her today. Slowly, we all turn around to see Gale Hawthorne standing in one of his District 1 suits staring back at us.

Katniss is too stunned to speak, so Peeta does what he does best: speak up for the woman he loves.

"Hello, Gale. It's good to see you again."

"You too, Peeta."

"Gale…" Katniss finally manages to force out. "How… have you been?"

"It's been a very long twenty-six years, Katniss."

"But it looks like you've done very well for yourself, right? I'm sure you have a wife and children?"

"No wife, no children, Catnip. Afraid there was only one girl for me. Unfortunately, I let her get away." Katniss begins to tremble almost imperceptibly. She leans on Peeta who holds her tight.

Gale sees the two children and kneels down to them.

"Hey there, Cutie? What's your name?"

"Prim," she answers quietly.

"That's a beautiful name," Gale pauses. "I knew another girl named Prim once, a long time ago. I loved her a lot." Katniss now starts shaking. Peeta holds her even tighter. He turns to Haymitch next. "What's your name, buddy?" Haymitch buries himself in Katniss' skirt.

"His name is Haymitch and he's a little shy with _strangers_," Peeta says firmly.

"That's perfectly alright. A good name for a good man." Gale climbs back to his feet. "Well, it was good to see you all again. I'm afraid I have to take my seat inside. Ares, Mrs. Snow," he says nodding to me and Lizzy before walking past us to the chamber.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Peeta says still holding Katniss. I realize the jig is up.

"He worked for Ohm. He took over the Special Defense Lab after…well, you know."

"And you didn't tell us?" Peeta says upset. Lizzy jumps in.

"We thought….that you'd be happier if you didn't know about him. We're sorry."

"No," Katniss says. "You did the right thing," she looks down at her children and then to Peeta. She begs him to let the matter drop with just with a glance.

"Mommy," Prim says. "Why are you crying?" It's true. Tears have started to roll down Katniss' cheeks.

"Oh, no reason, baby," she says wiping her face and forcing a smile. Prim is old enough to know when her mother is hiding something.

"Who was that man?"

"It's no one, baby," Katniss still says feigning a smile. "It's just someone that I knew a long time ago….but he's _not_ important."

Half an hour later, we are all assembled in the Legislative Chamber. President Holmes stands proudly at the podium, looking the part of the strong, dignified leader. I stand directly behind her as Chief of the Defense Forces. Behind me, the three surviving Victors of the Hunger Games: Johanna, Peeta, and Katniss stand side by side in front of a giant UDP flag. We look out at the 26 representatives of the Districts who anxiously await President Holmes' words…even though they already know exactly what she will say.

In the gallery above, Gale and Amelia sit with the rest of the honored guests. Lizzy is nearby. Prim and Haymitch sit to either side of her, and Octavian is on her lap. I cannot help but think how strong a woman she is. Not only can she survive terrorists and wars, but she can do it while taking care of the children as well.

"_I do not deserve her. I'm the luckiest man alive."_

The time comes and the cameras begin their live broadcast to every corner of Panem. The eyes of the whole nation are upon us.

"Citizens of Panem," President Holmes begins. "I must address you tonight as your President to ensure that you understand the magnitude of the events that have shaken our proud nation to the very core over the last two days.

The United Districts of Panem was suddenly and deliberately attacked by air and ground forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth. Innocent civilians across the Capitol, and Districts 2, 3, 6, and 13 were tyrannically slain, key government structures such as the Defense Ministry and Presidential Mansion were destroyed, and thousands more across the country were kidnapped against their will. Their fates still remain unknown.

As you can see behind me, I have asked several important individuals to join me in solidarity at this horrible time. Some of them have already paid the dearest of prices for Panem's freedom, while others are continuing to pay for our freedom everyday with their own sweat and blood. I now ask all men and women of Panem to join in their sacrifice from this moment onward. Too many of our loved ones died in the fires of the Revolution to allow us to fail in our sacred duty now.

Our enemy's brash disregard for our independence and sovereignty cannot be ignored. The Supreme Lawgiver of the Trans-European Commonwealth, Pierre Grosfrere, along with the traitor, Rikard Ohm, have made their intentions of dominating Panem clear. I cannot, and will not, allow this threat to our security to go unchecked.

Therefore, under Article II of the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem, I, the President, with the unanimous approval of the Legislature, do hereby announce that from this day until absolute victory is achieved, that a _STATE OF WAR_ exists between the United Districts of Panem and the Trans-European Commonwealth."


	38. In Shadow's Light Chapter 10

Lizzy and I both insist that Katniss, Peeta, and the kids stay with us for a few days but we are refused. The shock of so many demons from their past just seemed to be too much for the Mellarks, who took the first available train back to District 12. Early the next morning on the platform of Capitol Station, The Snows and the Mellarks once again say their sad goodbyes, unsure if one of us might not make it to the next reunion.

Lizzy hands me Octavian before she bends down and scoops Prim and Haymitch into her arms.

"You guys stay safe, and keep mailing me those letters. I love reading what you guys write."

"We will," Prim says. Haymitch nods with a smile.

"I love you guys so much," Lizzy says giving them each a hug. The two of them squeeze back.

"We love you too, Aunt Lizzy," Prim smiles.

"Love you," Haymitch says as well. Katniss and Peeta look down and smile. I reach down and playfully mess with each of their hair. The two Mellark cubs latch onto both of my legs and squeeze tight again. I wish moments like this, when I actually feel like a normal human being, could last forever.

"You guys be careful," I whisper.

"We love you, Uncle Ares." Haymitch releases and goes back over the Peeta, but Prim holds on a little bit longer. I kneel down to look her in the eyes and I can see her fear. Haymitch is still a little too young to comprehend what is going on, but Prim has heard her parents' stories and knows the faces of those in the book her parents keep. She understands what war means, and knows that I will have to go off to fight it. A tear runs down her little cheek I gently wipe it away and give her one more squeeze.

"I don't want you to go…" she softly whispers so that only I can hear it.

"Listen, don't you waste one second worrying about me, understand? You need to help your parents out and take care of Haymitch. He really looks up to his big sister so you need to be the example." Prim just nods back trying not to cry. "Hey," I say holding up Octavian, "and when this little guy is old enough, he'll also be looking up to his big cousin. He'll need someone to show him around those woods." Prim nods once again before leaning over and gently kissing Octavian on his forehead. "I love you, Kiddo," I say giving her one last hug.

"I love you, too," she says before stepping back over to Katniss' side.

Peeta gives a Lizzy a strong embrace.

"You are welcome in our home, _any time_, you understand?" Lizzy smiles and thanks him for everything he's done for us. He then turns to me and stretches out his hand. I shake it back firmly. "Now, _you_, don't do anything stupid," he says to me with a grin.

"C'mon, Peeta, it's me your talking about."

"That's what scares me." Both of us laugh. Katniss, as usual, saves her goodbye for last. She comes up and looks me dead in the face. I can see tears forming in her eyes. She, more than most, knows some of the hell that lies before me.

"Listen you," she says trying to keep her voice from breaking. "You _fight_. You fight so hard that you come back to us without a scratch. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," is the only response I can muster. Katniss throws her arms around me and squeezes. I feel moisture forming in my eyes as well.

"Be what I know you can be: what you _must_ be," Katniss whispers before letting go and joining Peeta and the kids.

As the Mellarks climb onto the train, Lizzy, Octavian, and I just hold each other. A few minutes later, the electro-turbines engage and the train zooms out of the station towards the east. They are gone. Suddenly, the loudspeaker above makes an announcement.

"_Now boarding on Platform 2, 'The Great Northern,' stops at District 2, District 3, District 7, District 6, District 5, and District 4…"_

I feel a pair of burning eyes watching my back. I turn around to see Johanna and Thom standing at the door of the train and staring straight back at me and Lizzy. Her eyes are filled with a mix of hate and worry like I have never seen before. It really unsettles me, and Lizzy pulls in close.

"Hey, _Snow_!" Johanna yells out across the platform. Suddenly, every set of eyes in the station is looking at us now. "She's the only thing in the world left that I care about! If something happens to her, you're a_ dead_ man!" Johanna whips back around and climbs aboard the train with silent Thom.

"Glad to know I have another fan…" I mutter to Lizzy standing next to me.

"What the hell did she mean by that?" Lizzy asks confused.

"I have no clue…"

"What is wrong with that woman?"

"C'mon, babe," I say turning to her. "It's what you've been studying for years. First, the trauma of the Games, then the Capitol's torture during the Revolution. That could have very easily been Annie…"

"There but by the grace of God…" Lizzy whispers.

"Go I…"

I drop Lizzy and Octavian off at the apartment on my way to the Ministry. She is still on sabbatical for another few months so she has taken to working on her research (or what's left of it after the bombing) from home.

As I arrive at Central Briefing, President Holmes is already waiting with Gale.

"Well, there's one of them!" she yells out angrily. "It seems that despite your promotion your punctuality has not improved…and Captain Flagg's has gotten worse! Do you not understand that we just _declared war_ on another major nation last night?"

"Relax, Ma'am," I say headed toward the coffee maker. "The war's not going anywhere and Panem cannot afford the President to give herself a stroke this early on." I pour two steaming cups; preparing one with my usual two sugars, one touch of cream and prepare the other very sweet with three sugars, no cream. I've worked with Amelia long enough to know how she likes her coffee.

I carry them back to the briefing table and Gale looks at me incredulously.

"Surely, you're not that tired, General Snow."

"No, it's just that Captain Flagg is never late unless she's working on something very taxing. She'll need this when she arrives."

Speaking of the Devil, Amelia barges into Central Briefing, definitely not her normal self. Her perpetually neat uniform is hopelessly disheveled, her hair is starting to frizz, and her eyes are so bloodshot you can see them from across the room.

She nervously drops an arm full of paperwork on the conference table and takes a seat.

"Sorry, sorry," she mutters under her breath.

"Tough night?" Gale asks sarcastically. I slowly slide her cup of coffee in front of her. She looks at it like I had just placed a winning lottery ticket in front of her before picking it up and gulping down half the mug at once.

"Oh Sir…._perfect_."

"I thought you might need that."

"So, Captain Flagg, is there a particular reason you look like you're half dead, or did you just feel the need to sleep under a bridge for no reason?"

"No, Madame President," Amelia begins. "It's just something was bothering me, so I went through the network last night?"

"The whole network?" I say in disbelief

"twice…" Amelia replies.

"There's over a million lines of code!"

"Yeah, it's starts to get really taxing around line 600,000 or so…"

"Why did you do that?"

"Cause I had a hunch. There's only one way that the TEC could have gotten that many aircraft inside Panem airspace without alerting our intelligence networks. _They have an in…_" Amelia punches a few keys, displaying some lines of security code on the holo projector. "And there it is: hidden in plain sight."

"So, what am I looking at?" I ask confused.

"Ohm, Sir, you're looking at Ohm."

"What?" Driva and I say simultaneously.

"It's called a 'tunnel' Amelia begins to explain. Ohm found a weak point in our encryption and got a worm inside our network. Through this tunnel, he can access all the information in our central data banks."

"Then let's get rid of it immediately!" Gale bursts out.

"We don't want to do that…" Amelia says.

"Why the hell not!" President Holmes bursts out.

"Because, Ma'am, a tunnel, like its name implies, is a two-way street. Once established, it means we can do this," she punches a few more keys, and suddenly the interface for the entire TEC security network appears.

"That can't be…" I say stunned.

"Security, surveillance, operations, weapons controls…_everything_…including the location of the kidnapped citizens," the hologlobe displays a location near the Britannic Channel a few hundred miles west of Germania. "And now that we know where Ohm has hacked in, I can control what he's looking at to make sure he can't do any more real damage."

"Amelia, I could kiss you!" I shout out in excitement.

"_Please do…_" she replies without thinking in her sleep-deprived state.

"What?" the other three of us at the table say in unison. Amelia just turns bright red, looks at the floor, and takes another sip of her coffee.

"Outstanding work, Captain Flagg," President Holmes says still grinning. "Now, go home and get some real sleep…._but not with him._ He's married and I really like his wife." Amelia and I both turn red this time. "Go, Captain Flagg." Amelia quickly gathers her notes, gets up, and heads for the hallway. "Now, General Snow," President Holmes continues, "let's get down to the real business of today."

"And that is, Ma'am?"

"I have decided to send a special team to Britannia to make contact with the rebels…"

"Britannia?" I say in disbelief. "Every attempt we've made to make contact with them has ended in failure. We're not even sure who's in charge on that island."

"That's what we're going to find out," President Holmes says. "If we ever want to have any hope of attacking the European mainland, saving our citizens, and bringing an end to this conflict, we have to have a base of operations over there."

"That would have to be one specialized team…"

"Indeed, General, that is why I've ordered the five best Soldiers we have in the Defense Forces assembled here in the Capitol. They will go to Britannia to establish relations, come up with a rescue plan for our prisoners, and then you'll offer the British rebels whatever training and expertise you can to prepare for our upcoming attack on the TEC, which I'm sure they would love to be a part of…"

"Wait, what do you mean, '_me_?'"

"I said the five best Soldiers in the Defense Forces…that _includes_ you."

"Well," I say leaning back in my chair, "I figured I'd be going overseas…I just didn't think it would be so quickly. When do we leave?"

"You'll meet the other members of your team over in the Special Defense Lab this afternoon, you'll have tomorrow to put your personal affairs in order, and then you fly out the next morning. Any questions?"

"Just one…how am I going to tell my wife?"

After the meeting adjourns, I step out into the hall. Amelia is still there waiting for me.

"Sir!" she says running up to me. "I am so sorry, about what I said back there. I wasn't thinking and…" I smile from ear to ear.

"Amelia, it's _okay_…"

"No, Sir, it's not. I mean even though I've had these feelings for years, I always swore that I'd never let them interfere with my work…"

"You've had these feelings for years?" I ask still grinning. Amelia just gets a dejected look on her face.

"I….really should just stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

"That would be a safe bet. Yes."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just when I heard that President Holmes was sending you overseas…"

"Wait, you knew before I did?"

"Of course, Sir, it's _me _you're talking to. Who do you think hand selected your team and assembled all of them together on such short notice?"

"Fair enough…"

"Anyway, I became really worried and wanted to do something to help out."

"What do you mean, 'help out?' You help out all the time, Flagg."

"Not, like you, Sir," she says growing more seriously. "I mean, you're a field officer. You actually face real danger. I just sit behind a computer all day pretending to matter…"

"Hold on, right there." I say. "Didn't you just say you 'hand-selected' a team for me in less than a day and then went through a million lines of code twice? Amelia, that's incredible! Over the past few years, you have saved my life with the right information and intelligence more times than I can count. Do I also need to remind you that you were in this building when a bomb exploded upstairs three days ago and you were trapped for the better part of twelve hours?"

"Yes but, I've never actually been in a situation where the decisions I make in that second will be the difference between life and death. _Not like you…"_

"But nothing, Amelia. You are extremely important to everything we do here, and believe me, before this war is over you'll face a situation like that, even though I wish that you didn't have to. I don't wish that on anybody."

Suddenly, she leans forward and kisses my cheek before jumping backwards like a guilty child who stole something.

"Sorry, Sir….I had to do that….and thank you for what you just said. It means a lot."

"Amelia…" I say.

"Yes Sir?" she says excited.

_"Go to bed…"_


	39. In Shadow's Light Chapter 11

As I expected, Lizzy was not exactly happy with the news that I was deploying overseas. However, she accepted it with same poise and grace that I've come to expect from such an incredible woman.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

"No, baby, it could be for awhile…"

"Define 'awhile.' Weeks? Months?" I take a deep breath over the phone and hear her speak the words that I'm afraid to say. _"Years?" _

"This isn't going to be a short war, Elizabeth." She knows I'm serious. That's the only time I use her full name.

The conversation shifts to what she and Octavian will do while I am gone.

"Octavian's never seen the ocean…I'm glad that he'll get to grow up a little in District 4," Lizzy says trying to sound a little hopeful.

"Me too. Maybe you can even teach him to fish."

"He's a little young for that, even by our standards."

"You never know, he might take to it."

"Ares," she says with her voice full of emotion. I can't really think about how he's gonna spend his first years without you right now." I change the subject.

"Do you want me to call Finnick?" I ask sadly.

"No, I will."

"I'll wire him the money for the train ticket. It's not gonna be cheap on such short notice."

"You know' he'll never accept it. We Odairs don't like to take hand-outs, especially from family."

"I know, but that's not the point. Even if he doesn't take it, be sure you slip him something when he's not looking." Lizzy laughs a little.

"Ok, I've got to go and make the arrangements. Are you gonna be home tonight?"

"Hopefully, I've got to go meet this team that Amelia and Driva put together for me. But, they said we'll definitely have some time together tomorrow before I leave."

"I love you…_General_."

"Oh, so we're using titles now? I love you, too…._Doctor_."

Half an hour later, I walk up to the doors of the temporary Special Defense Lab. It has been set up in one of the secure storage bays beneath the Ministry since the top levels were destroyed by the bombing.

_"Alright, Let's see what we have…" _I think as I walk inside. Three sergeants are waiting for me. The first is a short, skinny man who has the look of District 3 about him. His uniform is acceptable, but still slightly ruffled from constantly climbing into things to fix them. He also has grease perpetually glued under his fingernails. The next sergeant is wearing the armband of a medic. He is tall and slightly stocky. I've come to recognize the grey eyes and olive skin as the seam look from 12. The final sergeant is about my height, with the very dark skin and rounded features of District 6. The patch on his uniform is from LaSalle's battalion at Fort Henry Ford, but he wears the jumpsuit of a hovercraft pilot. I walk up to them and introduce myself.

"Gentlemen, I'm General Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces. You're here because you've been selected for a very special mission. One that could determine the outcome of the war.

In less than forty-eight hours, we will deploy to Britannia to establish relations with the rebels, train them, and mount a rescue effort for our citizens that were abducted. Now, that I've said who I am, why don't we go around the horn and tell each other who we are and what we can do?"

The first sergeant speaks up.

"I'm Staff Sergeant Clint Hightower, ordinance and mechanic corps," he says with a wide, sarcastic grin, "But those who know me call me 'Ratchet.'"

"And why do they do that?" I ask, playing into the ego that I've already inferred is there.

"Because, Sir," he says matter of factly, "I can fix anything."

"Anything?" the sergeant in the flight suit asks suspiciously.

"What can I say? Machines and I seem to get along."

_"Great, another one with 'techno sense,'"_ I think as my mind drifts back to Ohm. "Well, Sergeant, considering the Rebels have been using the same equipment for two-centuries, we'll probably be putting your skills to the ultimate test…"

"I look forward to it, Sir."

"I'm sure you do. Next."

The tall sergeant in the middle speaks next.

"Staff Sergeant Henry 'Doc' Goldflower, Medical Corps. Grew up with my parents working in the pharmaceutical factory in District 12, then decided to become a medic."

"Bringing anything good to Britannia in that aid bag of yours, Doc?" Ratchet asks sarcastically.

"Actually…I prefer to use drugs like morphling as a last resort. Most of the time, they just do more harm to the patient than good."

"Well, I can already tell you're gonna be no fun."

"Enough, Ratchet, let him finish," I say already annoyed with this fellow.

"That's about it, Sir," he says humbly.

"Do you know why they selected you, Doc? I mean the medical supplies we're bringing with us aren't exactly going to be enough for a whole country."

"Well, Sir, I've been reading up on the known plants and herbs of Britannia. Not too different than what we have in 12. I studied the work of Doctor Everdeen considering she's a legend where I grew up. I'm hoping that I can take what they have and really improve their standard of medical care."

"Good," I say sounding hopeful.

"What about us? The third sergeant asks.

"Well," Doc says, "Haven't lost a patient yet in five years as a combat medic, so hopefully that puts your mind a little at ease." It does seem to have an effect as the third sergeant finally introduces himself.

"Staff Sergeant Julius Osprey, call-sign 'Tiller.' I started out as a tank-driver but moved up to hovercraft a few years back. Twelve years of experience driving, flying, whatever. If it needs a pilot or an operator. I'm your man."

"Have any experience on foreign vehicles?" I ask.

"Sir," he says looking slightly indignant. "If it has a way to steer it, I can make it go where I want it to."

"Glad to see your confident…weren't we supposed to have one more?" I ask looking around.

At that moment, the doors fly open and in walks someone we never expected. She looks like she belongs more on a fashion runway in District 1, but her uniform is impeccable. Her long platinum blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun behind her head but two thin strands frame her soft-featured face: a face which I feel like I've seen before but cannot place. Even though I make it a point to never comment on the physical attractiveness of fellow soldiers, even I have to let the thought slip:

_"She is gorgeous." _

"Sorry, I'm late, Sir," she says in a feminine, yet still gruff voice. "President Holmes wanted to speak to me personally. She really wants me to keep you alive over there."

"Keep _me_ alive." I ask surprised.

"Yes Sir, that's my primary mission besides leading these jokers."

"Leading us?" Ratchet says like he is a little insulted.

"That's right, leading _you_," she says staring him down with her fierce blue eyes. "Sergeant First Class Olivia Sawbleyde."

"Sergeant First Class?" Ratchet continues. "Are you kidding, I think I may have kids somewhere older than you!"

"_It is true_," I think to myself. Sergeant Sawbleyde looks even younger than me. She can't be more than twenty-two.

"What can I say, soldier," she spits back at him angrily. "Excellence knows no age. I'll be the non-commissioned officer in charge of this little expedition whether you like it or not, Grease Monkey. You all will address me as 'Sergeant Sawbleyde' until I say otherwise." She turns back to me. "Except for you, Sir. You can call me 'Hatchet.'"

"Oh no!" Ratchet says angrily. "You can't be 'Hatchet!'"

"WHY THE HELL NOT?"

_ "Well,"_ I think while wincing a bit. _"She can definitely yell like a Sergeant First Class…"_

"Because I'm 'Ratchet!' We can't have a 'Hatchet' and a 'Ratchet' on the same team. That just sounds stupid. Plus, I bet those lovely bits of yours have never seen any real action, right?" He says laughing and turning to the other two sergeants. They awkwardly look down at the ground, not wanting to get involved.

"_Lovely bits?"_ Hatchet says with an artificial simper while she slowly walks over to Ratchet. "_Lovely bits_…HOW'S THIS FOR LOVELY BITS!" In a flash, she reaches down between his legs and latches onto Ratchet's _equipment_ with a vise-like grip. All the men in the group feel his pain in unison as Ratchet doubles over and nearly vomits."Listen here, Grease Monkey, I've been an infantry platoon sergeant with the Alpine Rangers for almost two years. Think I'm not used to forty-swinging dicks slobbering all over me like a bunch of freakin' dogs? I'll tell you the same thing I tell those animals. 'Look all you want, but the second you imply that I can't do my job, _I will end you_.' If you think that just because I have a pair of tits that I can't pull a trigger with the best of them, you're wrong…_dead wrong_. Understand?"

Ratchet manages a nod through his crushing pain.

"On second thought, Sergeant, I think the name 'Hatchet' is very fitting for you and respectfully retract my last statement…" Ratchet says, his face turning bright red.

"Now you get it, Grease Monkey. By the way, enjoy this, because this is the most intimate that you and I will _ever_ get. I want a Redwood, not a sapling." Doc and Tiller hold back laughter. I smile as I say:

"That's enough, Hatchet. You made your point."

"Yes, Sir." She finally lets Ratchet go who collapses to the floor in a heap. Doc walks over and checks him downstairs.

"Don't think they'll be any permanent damage," he mutters. "You certainly know how to make a good impression on the new leadership."

"Shut up, Doc," Ratchet grumbles. I walk over and kneel down next to them.

"Listen here, Ratchet," I say looking at him straight in the face. "I won't have any prejudice or disrespect on this team. If you ever say anything like that to Sergeant Sawbleyde again, I'll let her finish what she started. Get it?"

"Got it, Sir."

"Good." I stand back up and walk up to Hatchet. I look down to her belt and see a throwing axe strapped to her hip. "Is that why they call you 'Hatchet,' Sergeant?"

"No Sir, this is why." She immediately pulls the axe from her belt and launches it straight at a practice dummy over a hundred feet away. The axe lodges dead center in the dummy's face. The rest of us are absolutely floored. "Grew up in 7. Been going into 'the Canada' looking for virgin timber since before I was weaned, and the parents had to teach me how to defend myself against the wildlife. If it moves, _I can kill it_."

"Well, I'm starting to understand why President Holmes trusted you with my life. Your father teach you that little move?"

"My _mother_, actually." It finally clicks who this woman is. I dismiss the rest of the team with instructions to prepare for our departure and not "celebrate" too much, but I keep Hatchet behind to speak to her for a few minutes. When we're alone, I muster up the courage to ask the question:

"Your mother isn't Johanna Mason is it?"

"That she is." She can tell from the nervous look on my face what I am implying.

"Don't worry, Sir, I'm not my mother. I know who you are and am honored to serve under you. I actually volunteered for this assignment. My unit was attached to General Sturm's team when we took back District 2. I was crushed when I saw him go down to those TEC bastards and I swore I would never let that happen again." When the nervous look on my face doesn't completely disappear, she continues, "My mother spoke to you after the declaration about me, didn't she?"

"I didn't quite understand at the time, but I do now."

"What did she say?"

"That if I didn't keep you safe, she'd kill me." Hatchet just laughs. "What's so funny?"

"She should know better than that. My mother raised me to be a lot more lethal than she ever was…"


	40. In Shadow's Light Chapter 12

I get back to the apartment very late. Octavian is already asleep in his crib. I walk over to the side and quietly lean over to give him a kiss, careful not to wake him. He barely stirs. I find Lizzy, wrapped in a robe, standing in the bedroom. She gazes out the window at the bustling Capitol below. I come up behind her and wrap my arms across her chest. She leans her head back against my shoulder and we just stand there for a few moments feeling each other's warmth.

"Finnick will be here tomorrow afternoon to take us back to 4."

"Gotta love Finnick," I whisper softly. "He's one of the most loyal people I know."

"He said that he 'would burn in hell before he took money from a Snow.'" I laugh a little out loud. Lizzy continues, "I'll be sure to put a couple bills in his wallet."

"Thank you."

"How is the team?" Lizzy asks, still leaning against me.

"The best of the best…." I say. I tell her about Hatchet and the others and she smiles.

"That's going to be an adventure."

"Definitely."

We finally climb into bed together. After a few quiet minutes, Lizzy's hands start moving to key places and she gently kisses my neck in a certain way that sends me a clear message.

"Are you sure?" I ask hopefully.

"Absolutely," she whispers into my ear. Her scent is more intoxicating than ever. "Just don't wake the baby."

Our last evening is _one to never forget. _When we finish, Lizzy falls asleep leaning against me, but I just stare at the ceiling, unable to rest at all. A million thoughts keep running through my mind. What could happen, what it will mean for my family to be apart for so long…

When the first rays of dawn begin to creep through the window, I gently push my way out from underneath Lizzy. I worry for a few seconds that I might have woken her, but soon she rolls over, buries her face in her pillow, and silently continues to sleep.

I tiptoe into Octavian's room. In the miracle of all miracles, he chose last night for his first uninterrupted sleep. I smile as I look down at him, one arm stretched out over his head, sleeping soundly just like his mother.

"_He's so young…" I think to myself. "Will he even remember me if…"_ I've thought about it all night, and I decide to make sure he will. I sneak back into the study, pull a digital tape from the desk, and stick it into the computer terminal. I just stare at the camera on top of the monitor for a few seconds, trying rather unsuccessfully to gather my thoughts, but finally pull together the resolve to hit "record."

"Hello, Octavian," I manage to begin. "If you're watching this, you probably don't recognize who I am. Your mother might have shown you pictures, and told you stories, but in the end, I'm just a stranger to you who died many years ago in a war you hopefully don't remember. I pray that your mother has waited till you're ready to show you this video, but even if you're not, just remember that there was a man once named Ares Snow. He was your father, and he loved you more than life itself.

He didn't leave you and your mother to fight because it was his choice, but that doesn't mean he didn't believe in what he was fighting for. I hope that whatever you have gone through in coping with my loss hasn't clouded that for you. I have faith in your mother that she will instill the importance of what it means to fight for the right thing in you. You come from a long line of Odairs: brave men and women who never let hardship get in the way. However, on my side of the family, there is a little more to tell.

The Snows are a bit of a problem to explain. Our ancestors did some terrible things…things that I hope you will never have to suffer for like I have, but I'm here to share with you a lesson that I didn't learn for many, many years and wish I figured out sooner. _You are so much more than your family's history. _Never, let your name stand in your way. Wear it proudly, because I know you will add a glorious chapter to it with your incredible life. I not only feel that you are destined for something great…._I know it_, and I promise that I will be watching down on you from wherever I end up in the universe. If you need me to guide you, just ask for it, and I will move the planets themselves to find a way to reach you.

Take care of your mother and yourself, my beloved son. You are Octavian Snow…_never forget that_."

I reach over, click the camera off, and pull out the tape. I hold it in my hand for a few seconds, praying that it will never have to serve its intended purpose, but one thing I've learned over my existence is never take a single thing for granted.

I walk back over to the bedroom, place the tape in the pocket of my uniform, and climb back into bed with Lizzy. As she unconsciously senses me next to her, she rolls back over to my side and wraps her warm body around me. Losing myself in her sweet embrace once again, I finally am able to fall into peaceful sleep.

Lizzy and I are finally awoken a few hours later by Octavian's cries. I go to get him ready for the trip while Lizzy takes a shower and begins to pack what few things she has left considering most of our possessions were destroyed by Ohm's bomb. We eat a light lunch before Finnick arrives by cab from the train station in the early afternoon.

"Hey Cos," Lizzy says throwing her arms around him as he walks through the door.

"Finnick, how're you doing?" I say reaching my hand out to him. "Thanks for making the trip on such short notice.

"It's fine," he says shaking my hand back. "I'm used to it, by now."

"Yeah," I say sounding a bit a guilty. "I know you are." Lizzy elbows me in the ribs and flashes a glare in my direction. She doesn't want me spoiling the mood any more than it is already.

Finnick helps me carry the bags downstairs to a waiting taxi. The ride to the station is quiet and a bit awkward. Lizzy does her best to keep things light, telling the latest stories of Octavian's accomplishments to Uncle Finnick who listens to every word like the good man he is. I have an enormous respect for him now as well as the Mellarks. Despite my best efforts to justify the situation to myself, I cannot help but think that other people are doing my job for me because I can't: _keeping my family safe_.

We stand on the platform with a crowd of other families. Some of them are obviously military like us, but many are the wives, husbands, and children of contractors, government employees, and legislators. I look around and soon realize that they are here for the exact same reason we are: they are sending their loved ones away from the Capitol as well. War…real war…is a nasty business and those who remain near the places of power and command will be nothing more to an enemy than targets.

The "Great Northern" pulls into the station with a loud hiss and the conductor calls for all to climb aboard. Finnick reaches out his hand to me this time.

"Ares, Good luck and take care of yourself. I'll be sure to have the lobster pot going when you get back."

"Thank you for everything, Finnick," I manage to smile back. He grabs the bags and climbs aboard. Lizzy is holding Octavian in her arms. He is used to travel by now and doesn't make a fuss. I'm so happy he doesn't realize just how long this separation is going to be. Lizzy stares back at me and tears begin forming in our eyes. We are both brutally aware that this could very easily be the last time we see each other alive.

"Please, Don't cry…" I manage to get out. "If you cry, I'm going to cry and the last thing Panem needs to see is one of her generals babbling."

"Oh forget Panem right now!" Lizzy says losing the battle with her tears. "This moment is ours!" I feel the tears pouring out of my eyes as well and we wrap our arms around each other. I do my best to remember every single detail of this embrace. It will be the last one for a long time.

"All aboard!" we hear the conductor shout down the platform. We finally separate and I kiss my wife and son.

"I love you," Lizzy says firmly. "Now, go fight like Katniss said!" I just nod and reach into my pocket, pull out the tape, and place it in Lizzy's hand.

"Don't let him forget about me. _Promise_." Lizzy's tears grow more intense as she realizes what I just handed her. Without another word, she just turns around and climbs aboard the train.

A few moments later, the sharp blow of a whistle combines with the roar of the engines and the train disappears down the tracks. The crowd around me slowly disappears, but something firmly holds me in place. I just stare off into space with no one to bring me back.

"_I am alone."_

When I finally snap out of my daze, I don't even bother going back to the apartment. It is not my home…my home is where my family is. I head straight to the Ministry and slowly make my way down to the armory. The guard in front of the door seems surprised to see me.

"General Snow, how are you doing today?"

"Just fine," I say without any sincerity.

"I'm sorry things aren't prepared for you. We were briefed that you wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow morning.

"Decided to show up a bit early…."

"Yes Sir…" she says looking a little confused. She quickly pulls out her access card and swipes it across the lock. The giant metal vault releases and slides open. Before I step inside, I turn back to her.

"Soldier…"

"Yes Sir," she says snapping to attention.

"No one enters this vault until I clear them inside. Do you understand?" Despite the quizzical glance she gives me, she quickly responds:

"Yes Sir!" I step inside and the metal barrier slams shut behind me. The darkness is my friend for a few minutes while I gather my thoughts. I need this time alone: sealed in this place of safety and security to change my mindset. I cannot afford to be sad or mournful anymore. The Ares that just put his family on a train cannot be the same Ares that goes to Britannia. That Ares will succeed in nothing but getting good people killed. That Ares has to become _General Snow_.

I reach into the blackness and my hands find the light switches. I flick them on and the bright halogen comes to life, illuminating rack after rack of weapons. I walk down the aisles, grabbing tool after tool of death. The next twelve hours will be spent in the silent meditation of prepping for action: meticulously cleaning, maintaining, and checking and rechecking everything until perfection is achieved.

One might think now that I lied to my son in the recording this morning. That what I said about being "more than your family's history" is something that I don't really believe. For him, it is absolutely true. He is completely innocent. He knows nothing about taking someone else's life, and I hope that he lives a hundred years without knowing that feeling. Even though I want that peaceful existence for him, I know that I am not that fortunate. I will fight the battles that I pray from the bottom of soul that he will forever be spared from. I will go now and do the one thing that I know my life prepared me for…._I will kill_.


	41. In Shadow's Light Chapter 13

When I walk into the main hangar the next morning, I find Ratchet and Tiller hard at work on a new type of hovercraft I've never seen before. It is narrow and long with boxy corners and the skin of the fuselage is covered with a strange gray materiel.

"So what is up with this thing?" I ask throwing my duffel bags of gear on the ramp.

"Latest and greatest from District 6, Sir," Ratchet says without looking up from an access panel he's taking an oil sample from.

"Prototype stealth hovercraft, designed for long range reconnaissance and infiltration," Tiller says walking toward me. "President Holmes authorized its use considering that we don't want to attract any undue attention from either the TECs or the Brits."

"Does it work?" I ask.

"In Theory…," Tiller says, "but we'll really find out when we try to get through that little air defense net that's been keeping the Brits alive for so long."

"Your confidence is overwhelming…."

Doc enters the hangar next carrying a small bottle of pills and a bottle of water. Ratchet is just finishing up his work when Doc throws them to him.

"Take two now, and then one every two hours while we're in the air."

"Feeling a little under the weather, Ratchet?" I ask.

"Negative, Sir," he says slightly embarrassed. "Just…get a little airsick…sometimes."

"That's a bunch of bull and you know it, Ratch," Doc says laughing. "Don't forget that I was in the hangar when your craft from 3 landed two days ago. Looked like someone spilled a fifty-five gallon drum of split-pea soup in that thing.

"Shut up, Doc," Ratchet mumbles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Amelia enter the hangar.

"Keep making final preparations and then get the last bit of equipment loaded in the cargo bay."

"_Roger that_, Sir." Ratchet says putting the last of his tools away. I walk over to Amelia. She's definitely in much better shape than she was the day before yesterday.

"Back to normal, I see."

"Thank you, Sir. All it took was about 18 hours wrapped in my favorite blanket."

"Driva not coming to this little farewell?"

"I'm afraid President Holmes was called to a special session of the Legislative Defense Council, but she sends her best, of course."

"What about our own Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Not sure where he is…probably sleeping off a hangover with a woman whose name he can't remember…

"Pity…really looking forward to saying goodbye to him for awhile." Both of us share a laugh.

"Any luck making contact with Brits?"

"No, no response on any channel. It's like they're not even receiving our transmissions."

"More likely they're just not interested." Suddenly, a black uniform pushes past us carrying a large duffel bag.

"Alright, alright," Hatchet yells storming toward the hovercraft. "We have final clearance from Capitol Air Traffic Control which means I want wheels up in less than two minutes. We're already running freakin' behind and I hate being late. Get your asses on the damn bird. As she passes the three other members of the team to climb up the loading ramp, I see the guys all slowly turn to watch her climb up into ship.

_"Speaking of asses…."_ Ratchet whispers to the other two who nod silently in agreement.

"I heard that, Grease Monkey!" Hatchet yells from inside the hovercraft. "You'll pay for that later when we actually have time to spare. Get on the ship."

"Dammit!" he yells reaching down to cup his still sore private parts. He and the other two quickly follow their orders and climb aboard.

I turn to Amelia who is actually glaring in the direction of the hovercraft. I get a large smirk on my face as I realize what she is thinking.

"Captain Amelia Flagg….you aren't _jealous_ are you?" Amelia violently shakes her head back and forth but the guilt in her eyes gives her away.

"No Sir! Why would _I_ be jealous….of her….with her…_confidence_….and her impeccable combat record…and huge…..pair of perfect…" I cut Amelia off.

"Why don't we just say 'perfect hands' and leave it that?" Amelia nods embarrassingly. "I mean you did select her for this mission did you not?" Amelia nods again and pulls a handkerchief from her jacket. She reaches up and polishes the Mockingjay pin on my jacket till it shines bright under the halogen lamps.

"Gotta make a good first impression on the British, Sir. This will be a historic moment after all…" she says trying to change the subject unsuccessfully. I reach down and grab her chin.

"Always taking care of me, aren't you?"

"Kinda my job, Sir…"

"Exactly! That's why you picked her. Because you knew she was the best soldier for the job, and that's all she is…_a soldier doing a job_. Just like you, understand?"

"Yes, Sir." I bend down and give her a quick peck on the cheek. "What was that for?" Amelia asks surprised.

"I think you earned that one." Amelia smiles back.

"Hey Sir!" Hatchet yells from the ramp of the hovercraft. "With the greatest possible respect, if you're done playing _'doctor'_ with a fellow commissioned officer, can you get your ass on the damn bird so we can do this whole _'save the country thing'_ that all of Panem is counting on us for? Thanks, appreciate it," she says before turning back inside the ship.

"I think that's my signal to go," I say to Amelia.

"I think you're right."

"Keep my seat in Central Briefing warm," I say over my shoulder as I walk to the hovercraft. "I won't be gone very long!"

"You got it, Sir!" I climb the ramp into the crew compartment of the hovercraft and take a seat next to Hatchet. Doc and Ratchet sit across from us and Tiller is already up in the cockpit going through startup procedures.

"Who's the mousey Captain, Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"Doc, Punch him please," I say.

"With pleasure, Sir." Doc leans over and hits Ratchet hard in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" The three of us in the crew compartment respond in unison.

_"For being an idiot!" _

"That was impressive," Doc says.

"Yeah, it was," I mutter. "Easy to get to know each other when you all have to deal with the same problem child."

The ramp closes, the engines rev, and then we lift into the air. Once we clear the hangar doors, Hatchet pulls a large, leather pouch from her jacket. She opens it up, pulls a giant finger-full of chewing tobacco out, and sticks it in her cheek. The other three of us just stare at her in utter disbelief.

"What, you think a little girl like me can't chew?" she says sarcastically before spitting a giant, brown loogie on the steel floor between us. "Both my parents were lumberjacks. What do you expect?"

"That's disgusting, Sergeant," Doc says.

"Bunch of pansies…." Hatchet mutters under her breath.

"Hey, Sergeant Sawbleyde…." Ratchet asks softly.

"What is it, Grease Monkey?"

"Can I get a pinch of that?"

"Have you ever tried this before?" she says holding the pouch up. "Because if you're not used to it, it will make you sick."

"Me? No," Ratchet says trying to sound manly. "I've had it lots of times. In fact, I just forgot to bring my pouch. That's why I'm asking…"

"Alright," Hatchet says skeptically as she hands him the pouch. He opens it up, and winces a bit as the scent hits his nostrils. "Something wrong?" Hatchet asks before spitting on the floor again.

"Oh no, Sergeant. It's just this isn't my usual brand, but I'm good. Really, I'm good." Ratchet reaches into the pouch, pulls out a few leaves, and reluctantly sticks them in his mouth. The puckered expression on his face his priceless as he slowly hands the pouch back to a grinning Hatchet. "Thank….you…."

"You're welcome," she says barely containing her laughter.

"Are you sure you're alright, Ratch?" Doc asks. "You're looking a little green…"

"I'm fine…I'm….oh God!" Ratchet flails out of his straps and runs toward the lavatory in the back of the hovercraft. As we hear him wretch the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the three of us all burst out laughing simultaneously.

A few hours later, we clear the eastern coast of Panem and are over open ocean. Hatchet dims the compartment lighting and tells the guys to get some sleep. She will help Tiller out up in the cockpit. Ratchet is soon snoring away while Doc clicks on a reading light to study what has to be the third medical textbook I've seen him read so far.

I lean back in my seat and find my eyelids growing heavy. After a few futile minutes of fighting, I finally let them close and feel myself drift off…

The sunlight on this beautiful day is glorious. I'm standing on the sandy beach in front of the Odair family cabin in District 4. The breeze carries the sweet scent of the sea air and the sound of the gulls to me. I look toward the waves and see Lizzy leading Octavian into the surf. He has grown so much and is even walking on his stubby toddler legs as Lizzy stands behind him. Octavian's smile is the biggest I have ever seen it and Lizzy laughs as she talks to him about the ocean.

_"He really is an Odair"_ I think to myself. _"He's taken to the sea already."_

I call to them, but neither of them seems to hear me. I shout again, but still no response or acknowledgment. I decide to join them in the water. I run toward them, pulling off my shirt and shoes, but just as I am about to splash into the waves, I freeze. It's like I'm held in place by an invisible hand and despite my brain screaming at legs to walk forward, there are frozen fast.

"Lizzy!" I scream. "What's wrong?" But still she _does not_ answer. Then the water around her and Octavian starts to bubble and boil. Octavian starts to cry and she quickly grabs him up in her arms. She turns to run back to the shore, but is trapped out in the surf as an ice-blue vapor begins to rise around them: _Shiver_. "Run Lizzy! You've got to get away from it!" Still nothing. It's like I don't even exist. _I'm not there to help them_. I reach down and try to pull my legs from the sand, but it is hopeless. I watch in horror as the blue cloud envelops them. I see Lizzy and Octavian both begin to twitch and convulse as Ohm's laughter booms down from the sky….

"NOOOO!" I roar as I bolt awake and slam against my harness. I look around to see that I am still in the troop compartment of the hovercraft. Ratchet and Doc just stare back at me.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Doc asks concerned. "Do you need something to help you sleep?"

"No," I say unbuckling my harness and climbing to my feet. "I've slept enough…"

"What the hell is going on back here?" Hatchet says walking in from the cockpit.

"The Sir just had a…" Ratchet begins before I cut him off mid-sentence.

"Nothing! We're fine," I say flashing him a look that shuts him up. "What's our position, Sergeant?"

"That's what I was coming to tell you. We're approaching Britannia right now."

Ratchet and Doc release themselves from their harnesses and the three of us follow Hatchet to the cockpit. Tiller is still there making adjustments to the controls.

"There she is," Tiller says pointing out the viewscreen at a dark coastline looming about twenty miles in front of us, "The legendary island of Britannia."

"I don't see anything," Doc says confused. "No lights, no buildings…"

"The last thing you want to do while under the constant threat of air attack is to have a bunch of targets lit up at night," Hatchet says back over her shoulder.

"Yeah," I say punching a few controls on the radio, "They're in total blackout,"

_"Unidentified Hovercraft,"_ a strangely accented female voice comes through the radio speakers.

"Sir, what did you do?" Hatchet asks quickly.

"Nothing, I was just trying to find a British frequency."  
>"Well, it seems they found ours first," she says. "I thought you said this thing was supposed to be <em>stealth<em>!" she says yelling at Tiller.

"Well…._mostly stealth_…." He replies.

"What do you mean 'mostly stealth?' They either can see us or they can't!" Hatchet screams.

"Did I mention we didn't get a lot of time to test this before we left?"

_"Unidentified Hovercraft, you have violated the airspace of the Sovereign Island of Britannia. You will immediately alter your course of you will be fired upon."_

"Yeah, they sound really interested in talking…" Ratchet mutters. I quickly key the radio and try to respond.

"Britannia Control, this is General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem dispatched directly by President Driva Holmes to speak with your leadership on a diplomatic mission." No response.

Suddenly, our computer announces an audio alert.

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock."_

"So much for diplomacy…." Hatchet says. "So what's Plan B, Sir?"

I look out the viewscreen and see two white streaks rise from the coastline of Britannia and fly straight toward us.

_"Not Again…"_ I think as the moment of impact grows closer.


	42. In Shadow's Light Chapter 14

It seems Tiller did not exaggerate his skill.

"Hold on to something!" he screams as the rest of us dive to grab onto anything bolted down. Tiller jerks the steering yolk hard while slamming the throttle all the way forward, causing the hovercraft to spin violently in a three-hundred sixty degree barrel roll. The heat-seeking missiles cork-screw trying to continue their track of us, but end up missing the ship by just a few feet. As they explode about two hundred yards behind us, the shock-wave is jarring but ultimately harmless.

"Britannia Control! Cease-fire! Cease-fire!" I scream into the radio. "We are friendly! I say again, we are friendly!" The British coast looms directly on the horizon.

"What's the plan, Sir?" Tiller asks trying to anticipate where the next threat will come from.

"Get us on the ground as soon as possible! If they won't talk on the radio, maybe we can do a face to face."

"Sir, we'll be freakin' sitting ducks down there with our back against those coastal cliffs!" Hatchet tries to counter.

"Just do it!" I scream back. "We're here to talk, not fight. If they want to kill us, then our mission is a failure anyway."

Maybe my message got through to the right people, our maybe the Brits weren't able to fire in time. Either way, we come screaming over the dark cliffs on the British Coast and set down about a hundred yards from the edge. We catch our breath from our near brush with death as Tiller and Hatchet power down the hovercraft.

"So what's next?" Ratchet asks.

"Well," I say trying to sound more confident than I actually am. "Why don't we head outside and take a look around…"

"Alright then," Hatchet says going into combat mode, "Doc, Grease Monkey, head back to the cargo bay and grab weapons…"

"No," I say shaking my head. "No weapons."

"Are you freakin' crazy, Sir?" Hatchet says back.

"_This is a mission of peace_, Sergeant. If we piss them off, all the weapons in the world won't be enough to save us." Hatchet obeys her orders, but I can still tell she isn't at all happy about it. After Tiller shuts everything down, we drop the cargo ramp and carefully take our first steps on British soil.

As we slowly step away from the hovercraft, Hatchet looks over to me.

"So, are we just going to wander the entire island like _Hansel and Gretel_ screaming 'Who's in Charge here?" Before I can even answer her jab, the British answer for me.

A man with an assault rifle leaps out from behind a bush, screams something unintelligible, and out of nowhere, four others with weapons appear and join him. Slowly they surround us.

"Oh boy, oh boy," Ratchet repeats nervously. "Never thought I'd buy it like this."

"Nobody's buying nothing," I say as I raise my hands over my head. "Everybody, hands up…no sudden moves." Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all obey but Hatchet stands perfectly still.

"Hatchet, what the hell are you doing?" I ask trying to sound as firm but non-threatening as possible. The one that seems to be the British leader walks up to her screaming something else in his mystery dialect. He points his rifle directly in her face.

"Does anyone else understand what this freak is saying?"

"No…" I say keeping my eyes on all the weapons surrounding us, "But I think the fact that they're pointing guns at us is pretty clear…."

"Speaking of that," Hatchet says still completely calm, "I really don't like being almost blown out of the sky, and now having the muzzle of a rifle shoved in my face. It kinda sets me on edge…" she says not breaking eye contact with the leader.

"Hatchet, whatever you're thinking, don't do it!" I say angrily. The leader screams one more thing at Hatchet's face. She just bats her eyes and cocks her head to the side.

"_Hi_," she says like a not-so-innocent schoolgirl, "My name's Olivia, _what's yours_?" This confuses the Brit who relaxes his arms the smallest of amounts. This is just what Hatchet was looking for. In a flash like lightning, she sidesteps, grabs his rifle, and slams it backward into the leader's face. His nose shatters against the butt stock and he goes down to the ground. Hatchet holds onto the rifle and spins it around so it is pointing directly at the other Brits.

"Who else wants some?" she screams out as they nervously point their weapons back at her. Just as I think that Hatchet's antics might have given the TECs another ally in the war against Panem, the sound of a vehicle screaming towards us causes everyone to freeze. A truck comes to a sliding halt and a woman jumps out of the passenger's seat waving her arms.

"Stand down, Sergeant! Stand down!" she shouts in the same unique accent that we heard over the radio. "They're allies." The other Brits immediately drop their weapons. Their leader slowly climbs to his feet holding his bleeding nose. He looks over to Hatchet and sticks out his hand. She sheepishly hands him back his own rifle.

The woman is tiny, and not exactly dressed in a uniform, but the leather jacket she wears does have a lion insignia painted on the back that looks somewhat official. Her skin in the color of café au lait and her hair is jet black, definitely not the same appearance as the other tall-framed, pale-skinned Brits, but they definitely recognize her as someone important.

"Sorry about the misunderstanding, General Snow," she says walking over to me and holding out her hand. "Major Jasminde Bhatnagar, Britannia War Council. I'm in charge of this sector."

"You know me?" I ask shaking hands back.

"Of course," Major Bhatnagar says. We monitor Panem's television transmissions regularly. "Your Declaration of War on the Techies is a major bit of news for us."

"Then why did you try to_ kill_ us?" Hatchet asks angrily.

"Took awhile to get the response from London. Afraid they've been listening to your transmissions for the past three days, but neglected to tell the rest of us that we might want to be expecting you. The Techies try to use deception all the time to slip the defense net. Can't exactly trust a random hovercraft that just appears off the coast. Hope you weren't too inconvenienced."

"Not at all," Hatchet says with a sarcastic smile.

_"I can't believe her,"_ I think laughing on the inside.

"I'd be more worried about him," Hatchet continues as she points to the Brit with the broken nose. "Say, why is it we can understand you, but these guys sound like they're talking with a pair of socks in their mouth?"

"Oh them?" Major Bhatnagar says. "Don't mind them. They're Welsh. Fantastic warriors…not the best speakers." Major Bhatnagar smiles but the leader with the broken nose doesn't seem to find it funny.

"Welsh?" Doc asks.

"Yes 'Welsh,'" Major Bhatnagar says. "That's where you are: Wales."

"Whales?" Ratchet asks, "Like the fish?"

"No, _Wales_," Major Bhatnagar says.

"That's what I said, Whales, like the fish," Ratchet says looking at Doc.

"No, you idiot! Whales are _mammals_, not fish," Doc replies.

"It has nothing to do with any bloody fish!" Major Bhatnagar shouts at Ratchet before turning to Doc, "or bloody mammals!"

"Why are they bloody? Was somebody hunting them?" Tiller asks curiously. Major Bhatnagar just turns to the Welsh.

"Are all people from Panem this stupid?" The Welsh just shrug back.

"Enough!" I shout. "Major, is there any way we can get to this 'London' you're talking about?"

"Absolutely, come with me," she says turning back toward her truck. The five of us begin moving, but then Hatchet turns back to the other three sergeants.

"Not so fast," she says. "You three: stay with the hovercraft and guard it. I want one of you up at all times and make sure the ship stays ready to move. Understand?" Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all groan but do what they're told. Hatchet and I climb into the back of Major Bhatnagar's truck and are soon zooming across the Welsh countryside, though neither of us can see much of it. It is pitch black, and the driver uses night vision glasses to avoid turning on his headlights.

About ten minutes later, the truck pulls up in front of a large stone manor house, illuminated only by the moonlight. The driver brings the truck to a stop and three of us get out. Major Bhatnagar leads us through the ancient looking timber doorway and inside to a wood-paneled hallway lit only with oil lamps and candles.

"Well, this is interesting…very _old-fashioned_" Hatchet mutters under her breath.

"It's how we like it here," Major Bhatnagar says back to her. "Technology is for fighting. This is for _living_." I look up to see the same lion symbol that was on the back of Major Bhatnagar's jacket painted on the wall.

"Is that the symbol of Britannia?" I ask curiously.

"You really don't know much about us, do you?" Major Bhatnagar replies. "The lion has been the symbol of Britain for as long as any of our ancestors could remember, even before the wars three centuries ago when this country was still ruled by a monarch." She starts walking up the wooden staircase in the center of the hall and motions for us to follow. She leads Hatchet and me upstairs to what must be her office. We walk inside and are met with the same mismatch of modern and ancient together. There is a large fire burning at a stone hearth, candles light the room, but three computers rest on her desk. She takes a seat behind them and gestures for us to sit down as well.

"Can I offer you both some tea?"

"Sure," I say. Hatchet nods. Major Bhatnagar pulls a kettle from the hearth and pours a strange yellowish liquid into three mugs. She passes the brew to me and Hatchet and we both take a sip. I find it extremely bitter and unpleasant but Hatchet drains half her mug almost instantly.

"How do you like it?" Major Bhatnagar asks.

"It's….not quite like any tea I've ever tasted."

"_Pine needles_…" Hatchet says. I look at her confused. "Pine Needle Tea: I grew up drinking this. Full of good Vitamin C."

"What else did you grow up doing?" I ask her. Hatchet just grins back.

"Yes, unfortunately with the Techie blockade, the real stuff is pretty rare," Major Bhatnagar explains. "If you don't like it, you don't have to finish it, General. You won't hurt my feelings."

"Nonsense," I say continuing to sip from the mug and doing my best to hide my dislike. "Major, you said you could get us to London soon?"

"I can do you one better. I'll clear the airspace for you so you can fly your hovercraft there in the morning. I'll give the directions to your pilot. Shouldn't be more than a half hour flight for you."

"Is London your capital?" Hatchet asks.

"I guess you could call it that. We don't really have 'a capital.' The British tribes rule themselves but each sends a representative to the War Council in London to discuss our mutual defense. The only reason I'm here is that the Welsh asked for extra help guarding this sector, but I would have to leave as soon as they demanded it."

"Do you have a leader? One person we could talk to who represents all Britannia?" I ask.

"He's really more like a 'first among equals' but the person you need to talk to is Angus McFadden, Chief of the War Council. His voice will carry the most weight."

"And he'll be the one to decide if Britannia will join Panem in the war against the TEC?" Major Bhatnagar starts laughing at Hatchet. "Just what is so funny, Ma'am?" Hatchet asks.

"My Dear Girl," Major Bhatnagar says to Hatchet. "Britannia has been at war with the TEC for centuries! What you need to convince Chief McFadden of is letting Panem _join us_."

"And you can have the airspace cleared by tomorrow morning?" I ask. There is a knock at the wooden door.

"Enter," Major Bhatnagar says. A young man opens the door and walks over to her desk with a piece of paper. Major Bhatnagar reads it and then dismisses him.

"I'll have the airspace cleared for you _immediately_," she says. "This is a message from Chief McFadden, himself. He knows you've landed and wants you in London now."


	43. In Shadow's Light Chapter 15

The sun is just rising as we pull back up to the hovercraft.

"Well, that didn't take long…" Tiller says as we hop down from Major Bhatnagar's truck.

"Spin her up," Hatchet says gathering the men together and herding them aboard. "We're going to London."

"Where's that?" Ratchet asks curiously.

"No clue," Hatchet says as she climbs the ramp. I turn back to Major Bhatnagar who hands me a folded piece of paper.

"Coordinates to the landing zone outside of the War Council," she says. "The airspace will only be cleared for the next hour, so don't doddle too much." I take the paper and shake her hand one more time.  
>"Thank you for all your help, Major."<p>

"Just doing my job, Sir. If you really want to thank me, then help us give those Techies a good walloping once and for all."

"I'll do what I can." She smiles and heads back to the truck. I board the hovercraft and head for the cockpit. I take the co-pilot's seat and hand the paper to Tiller.

"Well, at least their pilots speak the same language as us," he says looking it over.

"Can you get us there in an hour?"

"Shouldn't be that long at all, Sir, why?"

"Cause in sixty minutes, we go back to being a target…" Tiller gets a suspicious look on his face.

"I thought they said we were allies."

"_We are_. I don't want to see how they'd treat us if we were enemies."

The hovercraft gently lifts into the morning air and we fly off east into the rising sun. As I finally get the chance to see what this new land looks like, my breath is taken away by its beauty. Green fields filled with grazing livestock are broken only by stretches of lush forest. We fly over tiny thatched country villages with black coal smoke rising from stone chimneys that appear to be lost in centuries past. Unfortunately, the reminder of the war is ever present as modern anti-aircraft batteries and missile sites stick up from camouflaged positions every few miles.

"Haven't tried to kill us yet," Hatchet says. "Guess that Major was telling us the truth."

"What is it with these Brits?" Ratchet asks from behind me.

"They obviously have the technology to live a really comfy life, but instead they act like they're in the dark ages…"

"I completely understand," says Doc. "Growing up in 12, we knew what was out there, but we were never happier than when it was just our families gathered around the fireplace cooking dinner in an iron pot. _Living without distractions._ Let's you know what's really important. Understand?"

"No…" Ratchet says back.

"Figures you wouldn't get it…" Doc mumbles.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of people acting like I'm stupid. I'm actually really smart! I've got two degrees in mechanical engineering and…"

"Ratchet!" Hatchet yells.

"Yes, Sergeant Sawbleyde?"

"Shut up…"

"Yes, Sergeant Sawbleyde…" I hold back laughter again as I continue to gaze out the viewscreen. Soon, we come to a river and begin to follow its course to the east.

"According to the instructions that Major gave you, Sir, this London place should be right along this river about fifty miles ahead," Tiller says without taking his eyes from the controls. Suddenly, the proximity alarm sounds and two attack hovercraft slowly pull to either side of us.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Hatchet asks angrily.

"Guess we need to test the radar on this thing a little better as well…" Tiller says.

"You think?"

_"UDP Hovercraft," _a voice sounds from the radio. _"This is London Skyguard. We have orders to escort you to the Tower. Acknowledge."_

"Roger, London Skyguard, this is General Snow. I acknowledge…but what is the _'The Tower?_'"

_"The Tower is where War Chief will receive you. Just follow us."_

We continue to trail the British hovercraft until we come into sight of London.

"Finally! A city…._sort of_." Ratchet exclaims. London is definitely a city alright, but not like anyone we have in Panem. It is an ocean of stone and mortar with thatched roofs that stretch for miles in either direction. A forest of black smoke trails rise from thousands of chimneys resulting in a shimmering haze that glitters in the sunlight. Cobblestone streets are crowded with thousands of people bustling to their early morning appointments. They barely seem to take notice of us: odd considering how few outsiders come to this island. The British hovercraft drop low and skim the water of the river. Tiller follows.

Along the riverbank in front of us, we see a massive stone structure crowned with four domed towers and completely surrounded by a crenulated stone wall. Despite this building's ancient appearance, the walls are bristling with anti-aircraft guns and missile pods peak out from all four domes. The British hovercraft peel away and Tiller sees an illuminated landing pad just inside the outer wall. He masterfully brings the hovercraft down right on target.

We drop ramp and disembark. As we take in our strange surroundings, Hatchet leans over and whispers in my ear:

"Sir, this place is really starting to freak me out." An entourage of ten people appears from the central castle and walks toward us. The group is led by a huge man with broad shoulders. Even though he is bald, he sports a massive red beard. Across his chest, he wears a plaid wool sash with a golden lion pin that glistens in the sunlight.

"Just stay cool, Hatchet, and follow my lead," I whisper back to her. The bearded gentleman stops directly in front of me. I am not a short man, but he still towers a full head above me.

"We've been expecting you," he says in an accent completely different than the other ones we have heard. Ratchet leans over to Doc and whispers:

"How many ways of talking do they have on this tiny island?" Doc just shrugs back.

"Angus McFadden," the bearded man says extending a massive hairy hand, "Chief of the War Council of Britannia. And you must be…"

"General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem." I grab his palm and his fingers close around my hand like a vise. I cannot help but wince a little bit until he lets go.

"Welcome to London," Angus says. "Follow me," he says turning and heading back toward the central castle. "I hope you had a pleasant trip so far, General."

"It was great until your missiles tried to blow us out of the sky," Hatchet says. I flash her a look but it does nothing to dissuade her, as usual.

"Aye," Angus says unconcerned. "It's means our air defenders are still doing their job. I'm sorry, but the Techies don't exactly make life easy here for us." As we enter the massive gate of the central castle, Angus continues. "I've called the whole War Council to Tower to address exactly how to deal with you all."

"To Tower, Sir?" Tiller aks.

"Aye, _To Tower_, you're in the Tower and the Tower is where the War Council has always met."

"Why do they call it _'the Tower?'_" Ratchet asks. "Looks like a storybook castle to me…"

Angus laughs a little but responds anyways.

"Because, Laddie, It's _always_ been called the Tower…"

"We've noticed that you seem fond of tradition here," I say trying to sound kind.

"Aye, the ancient wars destroyed this whole country. There was hardly two pieces of wood still nailed together or two bricks still mortared. When we rebuilt it, all the tribes agreed to live simply and try not to outpace their neighbors. All that leads to is jealously and competition. Our weapons are the only things we keep fancy, and those only because we have to. London is neutral and under direct control of the War Council. It may look old-fashioned, but trust me, it's got some surprises."

We round a corner and come face to face with a gigantic wooden door. Two guards salute and grab the handles.

"Ready?" Angus asks.

"Ready for what?" I respond. He just smiles and nods to the guards. They throw open the handles and Angus walks right in.

"THE WAR CHIEF!" A voice booms from inside the chamber. The only sound heard is the simultaneous snap of a several hundred people rising to their feet at once. Angus beckons us to follow and we walk into a massive indoor hall with benches on three sides piled with Councilors in a hundred different manners and modes of dress ranging from the simple to the extravagant. Angus takes a seat in a wooden throne near the center of the room and motions for us to sit at a bench on his left side. The five of us nervously obey as hundreds of eyes burn into us.

"My Right Honourable Councilors, Pray be seated," Angus says. Everyone sits calmly as Angus begins.

"Councilors, Seated to my left, are emissaries from the United Districts of Panem. As we have heard in their transmissions, which I remind the Councilors seated here that we voted on four separate occasions to _ignore_," he says glancing in my direction, "the nation across the sea has joined the war against the TEC and seeks an alliance with us." At these words, the chamber erupts in a massive roar of shouts and yelling. Angus bangs a wooden stick on the stone floor to restore order. "An alliance! Which will benefit both our nations in bringing an end to the threat of the Lawgivers and their TEC once and for all!"

"How can the Right Honourable War Chief expect us to believe that? How does this benefit Britannia!" A man jumps up from a back row, pointing his finger at us. "Panem just wants to use us to meet their own ends. All an alliance will succeed in is bringing about an end to our sovereignty, our independence, and our way of life!"

"Here Here!" echoes through the whole chamber, but a few others shout back across the room in opposition.

"How can the Right Honourable Councilor say that?" Another councilor jumps to her feet. "We can barely survive in this fight any longer. Our resources grow fewer and fewer while the TEC with the help of Panem's traitor only grows stronger! It won't be the Panem folk that end our culture. It will be the Techies!" More yelling and shouting. I can't hear myself think in this place.

_"How can this be a way to run a government?"_ I ask myself before leaning over to Angus. "May I talk to them?" I shout over the fray.

"In a little while, General," He says. "It's part of the process here. They have to tire themselves out first."

Unfortunately, that never comes. Alarms begin echoing through the chamber.

"Air Attack!" Angus screams through the fray. As if they have rehearsed it a thousand times, the entire chamber clears in less than a minute.

"What's going on?" Hatchet asks anxiously.

"Nothing to worry about, Lassie," he says. The Techies get through to London every few weeks trying to rile us up. They're all headed to the bunkers till it's all…

_"BOOM!"_ A massive explosion echoes through the hall. A window shatters sending shards of glass falling onto empty benches.

"That's normal?" I ask skeptically.

"No, that's not!" Angus shouts. "Come with me…" We follow him out a back door and down a flight of stairs. He wasn't kidding about London's hidden secrets. Directly beneath the ancient stone Council Hall is a modern command center very similar to Central Briefing back in the Capitol. "Status!" he shouts to the attendants.

A British Soldier answers from behind a computer screen. A computerized map of London is displayed on a giant screen next to him.

"Massive TEC air assault, Sir. They've got three squadrons through the coastal batteries and are all pushing directly on London. It's a good bet that they've found out the General from Panem and his team are here…"

"Bloody Hell," Angus mutters. "We've got to get you all to the bunkers…"

"To Hell with that!" Hatchet shouts. "I'm here to fight, not hide." Just as Angus is about to argue, I jump in.

"It's true, Chief. We're not gonna inspire a lot of hope hiding underground." Angus just gets a defeated look on his face.

"Have you ever fired an anti-aircraft gun before?"

"Once or twice, but I'm a fast-learner…"

"Sergeant," Angus says without breaking eye-contact with me. "Show the General to the Towers…"

"Yes Sir!"

"Tiller!" I shout. "Take Ratchet and get back to the hovercraft. Grab what supplies and weapons you can and get to cover. That thing is a massive target out there. If we lose it, I don't want to lose everything."

"Moving!" The two of them disappear back outside.

"Doc, Get with the guys in here and try to help out with their casualties."  
>"On it, Sir,"<p>

"Hatchet, you're with me." The two of us follow the Sergeant up the stone steps of the Tower to the walls. We find Brits already furiously firing away into the sky. TEC Attack Hovercraft are circling wildly only a few hundred feet up. The entire sky of London is lit up with tracers and flak as a thousand anti-aircraft positions spread out in all directions engage the angry swarm. The TECs are taking extreme casualties, but continue to press the suicidal attack.

Suddenly, a hovercraft appears from the north and strafes the wall facing the river. The defenders fall beneath the hail of gunfire leaving that side of the Tower undefended. I motion to Hatchet and we run over to a pair of vacant heavy machine guns.

"Ever fire one of these before?" I ask her.

"Nope," she responds.

"It's real easy," I say. "Just point it at the enemy and don't stop shooting until he blows up."

"Got it."

We begin scanning the sky and don't have to wait long. A TEC attack hovercraft screams downward toward us from across the river. Hatchet takes aim, fires, but only grazes him. As the ship bolts to the right, I line him up in my sights and pull the trigger. The Techie explodes into a fireball and crashes into the water below.

"You wouldn't have gotten him if I hadn't have helped," Hatchet says with a grin.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." Hatchet doesn't take long to redeem herself. Another TEC hovercraft crosses her line of fire and she pulls the trigger, blowing off one of his stabilizers. The enemy begins spinning out of control and tumbles to the ground on the other side of the river.

"Don't they know how much of a waste this is?" She screams to me.

"That's not the point," I shout back. "They're trying to send us a message!"

"Well, I've got a message for them too!" She says blowing another TEC to pieces.

And so the attack rages for about another ten minutes, Hatchet and I score kill after kill, bringing a lot of shouts of approval from the other British defenders on the walls with us. Finally, the battered TECs withdrawal to the southwest. We look out on the London cityscape. It's intact but not unscathed. Several buildings are engulfed in flames and plumes of smoke darken parts of the sky.

"Nicely done," a familiar voice sounds from behind us. Angus walks out and joins us on the wall. "You've shown the Councilors you can fight. They'll respect you more, now."

"How many casualties?" I ask him.

"Reports are still coming in, but it looks to be only in the dozens. Your medic is being very helpful down in Command helping to arrange the evacuations. I'm impressed."

"_Only_ _in the dozens_?" Hatchets says slightly appalled at his apparent apathy.

"Aye, Lassie," he says with a sorrowful nod. "They'll be mourned, but believe me, we've seen much worse here. It's what we lived with since the time of my grandfather's, grandfather's, grandfather. It's what we live with _every day_."


	44. In Shadow's Light Chapter 16

Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet are waiting for us back in the command center when we come down from the walls.

"How's the hovercraft?" I ask nervously.

"It picked up a ricochet or two," Ratchet says without any concern, "but nothing I can't patch up in an about an hour or so." I turn to Angus.

"Do you have a hangar we could put our ship in so it isn't quite so exposed?"

"Do we have a hangar?" he says with a sly grin. "Come with me." We follow him out a back door of the command center and down a long sterile hallway.

"This place is just full of surprises…" Doc says trailing off. Angus proudly points to doorway after doorway describing what each room holds. "Small Arms, Heavy Weapons, Explosives Vault, Communication Equipment, Cryptography, and last but not least…." At the very end of the hallway is a large pair of sliding doors, "_The hangar_…" He presses a button and the doors slide open. We walk inside and look down several hundred feet to the floor below. My first impression is that somebody buried the Capitol Memorial Sports Stadium underground. Lined up in perfect rows, are hundreds of hovercraft ranging from small fast attack models up all the way to huge transport ships.

"Wow…" Ratchet manages to mutter. "This place got a maintenance bay too?" He asks.

"Of course, and you're free to use it to fix up yer vessel." Angus replies.

"Just how the hell are we supposed to get the ship down here?" Tiller asks staring up at the solid ceiling. Angus walks over to a control panel and presses a button. A voice on the intercom answers.

_"Yes, Sir?"_

"Maggie, bring the Panem hovercraft down to the main hangar."

_ "Right away, Sir."_

"But how is that even possible?" I ask until I'm interrupted by a loud whirring sound. A huge door on the ground floor opens up and less than thirty seconds later, our hovercraft appears safely in the hangar bay.

"Most marked landing pads in London are linked to this hangar," Angus explains. There is a network of underground tunnels and elevators that allow us to move ships all over the city rapidly without being seen. Helps confuse the Techies."

"Well, that little feature would have been nice to know about when the firefight was going on!" Tiller says a little annoyed.

"Sorry, slipped me mind. Had more important things to worry about."

"Chief McFadden…" I say before he cuts me off.

"Angus, General please."

"Very well, _Angus_," I continue, "Would it be possible to get the War Council back together? We still have much to discuss." Angus looks at his watch.

"Not today, I'm afraid."

"Why? It's barely the afternoon!" Hatchet says.

"It's Friday, Lassie, _Gambols Night_."

"Gambols night?" I ask confused.

"A little tradition we have in London, General. Once a week, we gather to forget the troubles in food and drink. Let's us smooth out any hostilities between the tribes, mourn our losses, and live a little bit before the next battle. Nothing gets done in London after mid-day Friday." Hatchet appears frustrated, but I try to be optimistic.

"So, you're saying they'll be a party?" I ask thinking it could be a good chance to bond with our hosts.

"Oh _yes_," Angus says in a way that makes me think his definition of "party" and mine could be very different. "I spend every Gambols at _The Three Foxes_, it's a tavern only a few streets away, and speaking of that place, now that we've taken care of lodging for yer ship, we need to take care of it for you all as well."

After we've grabbed our personal belongings from the hovercraft, Angus sends the five of us with one of his assistants down to _The Three Foxes_ with assurances he will join us once Gambols officially starts at sundown. Apparently, the War Chief has a lot of pull in this place, because no sooner had we appeared in the door, the innkeeper, an older graying woman named Mrs. Marbury gave us the three largest rooms she had.

As she slowly leads us up the creaking timber staircase from the main dining room, Hatchet taps my shoulder. I lean over and she whispers in my ear.

"So we're just going to trust the red-headed giant? How do I know this sweet little old woman with hips that look she gave birth to half this city won't slit my throat as I sleep?" I realize I don't have an answer for her and I admit to myself, we're taking a lot of this faith.  
>"We don't really have a choice, I'm afraid. Just sleep with one eye open." Hatchet just rolls her eyes.<p>

Mrs. Marbury takes us to the end of a hallway with three doors and quickly explains our sleeping arrangements. I will have the middle room to myself since I am the most senior leader. Hatchet will have the room to the left since she is a woman and in Mrs. Marbury's words, "It just wouldn't be proper for a young lady to be sharing a space with three gentlemen," and much to the chagrin of the other three, they will share the third room.

As Mrs. Marbury opens their door, Doc pushes past the other two and sets his duffel down on the only single bed. Ratchet and Tiller are left to fight over a pair of bunk beds in the corner.

"I get bottom bunk!" Ratchet says trying to put his bag down first, but Tiller just pushes past him.

"Like hell you do, Little Man." A disheartened Ratchet can only throw his duffel on the top and say in a defeated whisper.

"I get top bunk…."

Hatchet walks into her room and turns to me.

"I'll see you at whatever the hell this party is in a few hours, Sir."

"Gonna take a nap?"

"Hardly…" she says before slamming the wood and wrought iron door in my face.

"She's a firecracker, isn't she?" Mrs. Marbury says to me.

"You have no idea…"

My room is small but not uncomfortably so. There is a single old-fashioned wooden canopy bed in the corner with a mirror and washstand next to it.

"_No running water,"_ I think to myself. _"Well, this will be interesting."_ I drop my bag next to a large wardrobe and walk over to the washstand. As I look at myself in the mirror, I realize I need to shave badly. I pour some water from an earthenware pitcher into the basin and do my best in the lukewarm water not to slice my face to ribbons. After only slightly better than marginal success, I lay down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. The cool linen of the sheets feels good against my skin, and in a few seconds, I am out.

Mercifully, there are no nightmares this time. I am awoken by the sounds of a crowd and boisterous laughter coming from downstairs. The sun has gone down and the room is completely dark. I manage to fumble around and find a candle with a box of matches next to it.

In the flickering flame, I dress myself in a clean uniform and carefully attach the Mockingjay pin. The effect of the candlelight on the gold is dazzling and I cannot help but think of the "Girl on Fire," who gave it to me.

I walk down the creaking wooden staircase and into the dining room. The large white-washed empty space has been transformed into a whole different world than what it was a few hours before. A huge fire burns in the stone hearth at the far end of the room. Dozens of candles give the place a warm, orange glow. Faces line every wall and pack every table, many of which I recognize from the Council Chamber earlier today. Apparently, Angus isn't the only important Brit that frequents the _The Three Foxes_ on Gambols Night.

Mrs. Marbury is behind the bar, handing out tankard after tankard of a mystery beverage. I push my way over and gladly accept one.

"Hope you like it, _Deary_," she says handing me the vessel with a smile. I look down to see a strange brew that appears to be some kind of beer. It smells terrible and tastes like warm soapy water, but I can tell its at least strong stuff.

Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller have already joined the festivities, and are taking in each other's company against a wall on the other side of the room. I wander over to them.

"Enjoying yourselves?" I ask taking a sip of my tankard.

"This Brits sure like to party," Ratchet says looking out at the crowd.

"Too bad the only stuff to drink is this…" Tiller says staring down at his mug.

"I don't know," Doc says taking another sip. "I kinda like it."

"You would, _Herbal Herbie_," Ratchet says disdainfully. Doc just shrugs it off.

"Where's Hatchet?" I ask curiously.

"Don't know, Sir," Tiller says. "We knocked on her door, but she told us she would be down when she felt like it…"

"Oh…my…..holy…." Ratchet says, his jaw dropping to the floor. We look across the room and our jaws join his. Gracefully making her way down the staircase is Hatchet, but this isn't the hardened gruff Sergeant that we all know. She glides down the steps in black heels. Her long blonde hair is down and elegantly flows over her shoulders, and her short black dress hugs her body revealing more than a little bit of cleavage.

"That cannot be the same Sergeant Sawbleyde that nearly castrated you two days ago," Tiller says.

Hatchet walks over to the bar and requests a beer. Mrs. Marbury is obviously not used to seeing anyone dressed like Hatchet is, but ever the gracious hostess, hand her the drink with a smile. Attracting the gaze of every man in the room, Hatchet walks over to the fireplace and strikes up a conversation with a group or random Brits.

"Does she know what the hell she's doing?" Ratchet yells out in utter shock.

"I think she knows exactly what she's doing," I calmly reply after taking a sip of my beer. "Sergeant Sewbleyde must realize that sometimes the most dangerous weapon in the world is a woman in the right little black dress."

"Amen," Doc says.

After about another hour or so of food and beer, The front door flies open and in walks Angus, dressed to the nines in a fine wool suit. The whole _Three Foxes_ erupts in cheers as he walks in and immediately stands up on a table waving his arms. Someone magically produces a full tankard which they hand up to him. One more wave of his hand, and the room falls silent. He raises his drink high in the air.

"To our Fallen!" he says solemnly.

"To our Fallen," the room echoes. After everyone takes a drink, Angus continues.

"Tonight, we celebrate life. We celebrate our freedom! We celebrate the love of good friends and family. We celebrate the victory we hope to one day give our children, and we celebrate _hope for tomorrow_….In the words of the anthem that my father taught me, taught to him by his father, and taught to him by his father…._Britons never never never shall be slaves!"_

"Britons never shall be slaves!" The room echoes back.

Angus steps down from the table and I make my way over to him. He dismisses a few other Councilors and beckons me over to a quieter seat in the corner of the room.

"How do you like yer beer?"

"Honestly?" I reply.

"Aye."

"Tastes like shit." Angus just bursts out laughing.

"It is a bit of an acquired taste, I admit."

"This blockade must be hell."

"What do you mean?"

"The beer," I say pointing to my tankard.

"Laddie, we go without a lot, but beer is one thing we don't skimp on. That's the same bitters that Brits have been having for a thousand years."

"You mean it's _supposed_ to taste like this?" Angus laughs again and we move on. "It's hard for me to wrap my head around a party going on like this considering so many died today."

"You see them," Angus says pointing to a man and woman seated at a table and enjoying a game of cards. "Recognize them?" he asks. I do, they are the two Councilors who were arguing today in the chamber. "That's why we do this. Because we fight like hell in the day, but when the sun goes down, we all become mates. We drink, laugh, _love_, and celebrate life because in Britannia, you never know which day will be your last."

"That's a beautiful thought, Chief," I say trying to not dampen the mood too much, "but I'm running out of time. The TECs are holding almost two thousand Panem citizens hostage. I have to find a way to rescue them."

"With who?" Angus asks me with a glare.

"Well, I was hoping _you_ would help us…" I say.

"Laddie, we'd need an army to go after the Techies, _and an army we don't have_."

"I've got to do something, dammit!" I say sounding a bit too angry and frustrated.

"Don't think about it tonight, Laddie. Trust me, an answer will come to you when you least expect it." He gets up and goes to drink with another group of Brits. Soon, all of them are loudly singing an old folk song about loving a woman and then getting drunk with her. I sit alone staring down at my drink. After a few failed attempts to finish it, I walk back over to my men.

"Where's Ratchet?" I ask when I notice he's missing. Doc and Tiller just point. I look over to a far corner. Hatchet and Ratchet are wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing passionately in the candlelight.

"_Well, that is entirely unexpected…"_


	45. In Shadow's Light Chapter 17

Early the next morning, I stand with Angus in the Tower Command Center. Despite the wild surprises of last night, I had enough thought about me to get him to agree to try this as Angus was walking out the door. By the time I came back to the party, Hatchet, Ratchet, and the others had disappeared. I didn't want to know any details at that point and left word with Mrs. Marbury for them to come join me here when they woke this morning.

"How much longer, Maggie?" Angus asks one of the technicians.

"A few more minutes, Sir," she replies. "Have to get the atmospheric bounce just right on the transmission." One of the most crippling side effects of the ancient wars was the loss of so much useful technology. In addition to high-flying airplanes and long-range rockets, the warring nations also shot down each other's satellites from orbit in an attempt to gain a strategic advantage. All that really ended up happening was sending telecommunications back a few centuries. Without satellites, the only way to send a transmission around the globe now is with a carefully calculated radio wave that bounces back and forth from the atmosphere, to the surface of the earth, and back again and only the most extremely skilled operators can achieve it. Luckily, Angus and me both happen to have one in our respective command centers.

While Maggie still continues to work on her calculations, Tiller and Doc come in and sit down at the far end of the briefing table.

"Where's Hatchet and Ratchet?" I ask suspiciously.

"Negative Knowledge, Sir," Doc says.

"Didn't Ratchet ever come back to your room last night?" The two of them answer only with telling glances. "_No…_" I say with shock and surprise. "Hatchet _and_ Ratchet?"

"The two of them seemed pretty intent on keeping each other's company last night, Sir. They disappeared upstairs not long after the little exchange you saw," Doc says with a large grin.

"I've seen stranger things, Sir," Tiller adds, "but not by much."

"I'm used to soldiers in the same unit sharing things, General," Angus says jumping into the conversation, "But is it normal in Panem for two Soldiers in the same unit to be sharing the same _bed_ with each other?"

"Not quite," I say a little embarrassed. "I may have to have a talk with Sergeant Sawbleyde…"

"I think I have it," Maggie says not paying attention to the rest of us. I walk up to the large screen posted against the wall on the far side of the room.

"Patch us through if you can," I say. The screen comes alive with static before slowly clearing into an image of Central Briefing back in the Capitol.

"It's good to see you again, Sir," Amelia says with a large smile. She is sitting at her same spot at the conference table.

"Good to see you too, Captain Flagg," I say back to her. "Thanks for staying up so late for us.

"Oh, it's really nothing, General Snow," President Holmes says walking into frame and taking a seat next to Amelia. "I don't get much sleep anyway since this war started. How's Britannia?" She asks with a grin.

"Different. Still getting used to things, but definitely could learn to love it here…well, everything except for the beer. Don't think I'll ever be a fan."

"Drink choices aside, General, have you made any progress in establishing relations with the British government?"

"Ma'am, I would like to introduce you to the Chief of the War Council of Britannia, Angus McFadden," I say gesturing over to Angus who walks into view.

"President Holmes, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," he says like a true politician. "I'm a big fan of your leadership."

"Oh really?" President Holmes asks surprised.

"Apparently, Panem's television broadcasts are very popular viewing in Britannia," I say trying to explain.

"In that case, Chief McFadden," President Holmes says diplomatically, "I am very grateful for your kind words. I just apologize that I'm not as aware of your nation as you are of ours."

"It's quite alright, Madame President," Angus says still being a perfect gentleman. "We like to keep it that way."

The two of them then proceed to give each other a brief history lessons on their respective terms as leaders and the chain of events that has led to the mutual desire for the TEC's destruction. Unfortunately, the sticking point continues to be the establishment of a full alliance.

"You see, Madam President, Britannia barely has the forces available to maintain her own defense much less help mount a full scale attack on the European continent. Many of the tribes only send the minimum amount of personnel requested to help man the southern air defense batteries and instead choose to guard just their own lands. The Highlanders in the northern mountains send no one at all. They don't even have a regular representative in the War Council."

"What about the establishment of a UDP base in Britannia for future operations against the TEC?" President Holmes asks hopefully.

"I'm afraid the support in the War Council just isn't there. Most of them are distrustful not only of the Techies, but all outsiders. Remember, Ma'am, we've been watching you for years. You haven't exactly been a democratic nation for long, and many of us still remember watching transmissions of your Hunger Games. The opposition doesn't want to bring that kind of belligerence into our country that we have kept free for ten generations while the rest of the world crumbled around us. It would take a pretty impressive chain of events to change that." That's when I begin formulating a plan in my head that would kill two birds with one stone.

"Amelia, do you still have that tunnel link into the TEC's main database?"

"Yes Sir," she says. "It's proven to be very useful so far."

"You have a link into the Techie's database?" Angus says with shock and surprise.

"Yes, Chief, and I'm sure that President Holmes wouldn't mind the sharing of intelligence in exchange for further cooperation with our efforts." I motion to Driva who thankfully continues to follow my lead.

"Or course, that's what _allies_ do," she says with the perfect amount of emphasis. Sometimes, it really is a pleasure to work with her. We can read each other like a book when we're in sync.

I hear the doors behind me open and I look back to see Ratchet followed by a very nervous looking Hatchet run toward the briefing table. He takes a seat next to Doc and Tiller, but she walks all the way around the table to sit by herself on the other side.

"Nice of you to finally the join the discussion, Sergeants Sawbleyde and Hightower…" President Holmes says condescendingly. "I trust that sightseeing around Britannia is not interfering too much with your assigned duties."

"No Ma'am," Ratchet says frantically, "we were just…"

"Checking on the hovercraft!" Hatchet blurts out interrupting him. "It took some damage yesterday in an air attack and I was assisting Sergeant Hightower in repairs…"

"All night long…" Angus mutters with a chuckle. Hatchet turns bright red and buries her head in her hands. On the screen above, Amelia immediately gets a slightly judgmental look on her face and President Holmes looks like she's about to say something else, but a subtle shaking of my head lets her know to drop it.

"Going back to my original point," I say trying to get things back on topic, "Amelia can you bring up on a map exactly where the UDP civilians are being held."

"Yes Sir," Amelia says punching a few keys. "It appears to be some kind of large complex located here," a bright yellow dot begins blinking on a map of Western Europe. "Details of it are encrypted even inside the TEC database. Whatever they're doing, they definitely want it kept secret from everybody…and I do mean _everybody_."

"That's Francia," Angus interjects. "Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere's own backyard. The support for him there is the strongest it is anywhere in the TEC."

"Then that makes my plan all the better," I say.

"Well then, General, please enlighten us," President Holmes states. I lay out in detail exactly what I want to do for everybody in attendance.

"That's the craziest idea I've ever heard, Sir," Hatchet says finally bringing herself to speak, "and I'm totally up for it."

"Why not?" Ratchet says. "It could be fun."

"I go where my team goes," Doc adds.

"What about you, Sergeant Osprey?" I ask. "Could you pull it off?"

"Oh, I have the easy part," he says with a grin, "it's all the other moving pieces I'm worried about. However, if the Brits are up for it, I'm game."

"Well, my team says they can do it, Madame President. Do we have your blessing?" I ask.

"My main concern is for those hostages," she responds firmly, "and since it sounds like we don't have a better plan, you have my permission. Now, the real question is whether or not you will be able to fulfill your part of the bargain, Chief McFadden," she says to Angus.

"I can make no guarantees," he says to her, "It will take the permission of the War Council, but I do promise this: I will do everything within my power to ensure they approve it. If the Council sees that the people of Panem are willing to fight that hard, then the Britons will know that they are worthy allies, and we might finally be able to bring this endless war to a finish."

"Alright then, General, it's on you now," President Holmes says to me. "Go make it happen, and good luck. The fate of this conflict may rest in your hands."

"Understood, Ma'am." President Holmes nods silently and exits the screen. Amelia walks back to the center of the shot.

"We're praying for you, Sir. _May the odds be ever in your favor_." The transmission fades back into static and cuts out. Angus walks over to me and slaps his hand on my shoulder.

"I'll say one thing for you, Laddie, you've certainly got some guts for even suggesting that: going into the lion's den with only a toothpick. If you can pull it off," he points to the Council Chamber above us, "there won't be any doubt left in their heads that they should stand with you."

"I need to speak with them directly. The plan will mean more coming directly from my mouth."

"I'll call a session for this afternoon," he says. "Don't want to make it too early. Most of 'em are probably still hungover from last night!"

"I'll be ready." Angus nods and walks away. I dismiss Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller but grab Hatchet.

I make her walk with me upstairs and outside into the sunlight. After picking a quiet spot on the wall, I look over to her face. Her cheeks are still a bit red with shame and she knows what's coming.

"So," I say looking out over the river, "Do you make a habit of sleeping with subordinates you barely know or is it a new thing for you?"

"Sir…"

"Considering that this is a major operation that will affect the future of the free world, I need to know that you won't risk it all because you need to get laid!"

"Sir, I'm sorry but I was very drunk last night and…"

"And you think that makes it okay?" I say angrily.

"Of course not, Sir. That was my first time…."

"Wait, that was your first time?" I say a bit sarcastically. She does not find it funny at all.

"No! It was not my first time having…" She pauses afraid to even say the word out loud. Finally, she manages to spit out, "…having _relations_."

"Sergeant, we're both two adults here. I think we can use the word, 'sex' in conversation." She grows bright red again and looks down at the ground.

"Very well. Sir, it was not my first time having 'sex.' It was just my first time doing it with a subordinate."

"Do you know how beyond messed up that is? You're his non-commissioned officer in charge. Unlawful command influence is a crime, a _big_ one. I could technically have you court-martialed for that."

"Sir, I didn't do it for a power trip or anything!"

"Then why?" I ask staring straight at her.

"I did it because…at the time, I felt…." I am truly flabbergasted. This same woman who has been nothing but a symbol of strength so far is melting in front of me. She continues to try and speak, but is failing miserably. "Ever since we were on the hovercraft coming over here together…and then I was drinking and….I don't know! If you're gonna court-martial me, then just court-martial me!" She finally says giving up.

"You really are embarrassed by this, aren't you? If you have genuine feelings for Ratchet, just say so."

"NO!" she screams loudly. "No, I do not have feelings for that filthy Grease Monkey!" Somehow, by the tones in her voice, I don't believe her at all. "In fact, I've already told him that it's over…_nothing_ is ever going to happen again."

"You know, Sergeant, I understand that even the most sadistic psychopathic killers such as yourself have needs. If you want to cultivate a relationship with the Grease Monkey, I'm fine with that. I just need certain assurances that you two will keep it in your personal life and on missions you will be completely professional. I need to be able to rely on my team when we go into action because we _will_ go into action."

"Sir, I have no interest in a relationship and I give you my solemn vow that you will always be able to count on me in action."

"That's all I needed to hear, Olivia. Dismissed." She turns around and begins to walk away. "Oh, and Hatchet," She stops and looks back at me. "If you were as unconvincing to Ratchet as you were to me about not having any feelings for him…you may want to go back and try telling him again." Hatchet's cheeks grow an even brighter shade of crimson and she disappears like a flash back inside. All I can do is shake my head and smile.


	46. In Shadow's Light Chapter 18

"Are you absolutely mad?" The Councilor from the Yorks screams at me from his bench. "Are you that anxious to die?" I stand in the middle of the Council Chamber in my full dress uniform. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller sit very uncomfortably on the bench next to me and Angus leans back in his throne in absolute frustration with the gridlock as the room erupts in more screaming.

"I don't think they liked your plan very much, Sir," Ratchet whispers to me shaking his head.

"Thank you for your astute observation, Sergeant," I spit back at him. Angus bangs his wooden stick on the stone floor trying to calm the ruckus.

"Enough! Enough!" he screams. The shouting dies down a little bit but the level of emotion is still high.

"What they're suggesting could compromise the entire defense of Britannia!" another Councilor screams down from the other side of the room. "What this Council needs is sound planning and logic, not the whims of some foreign fool!"

Panic begins to build in the pit of my stomach. I feel like that I will totally fail in my mission; both in rescuing our citizens from the TECs and in establishing an alliance. However, despite my internal dread, I do not let my worry show on my face. Suddenly, a bright gleam catches my eye. It is the Mockingjay pin reflecting the rays of the afternoon sun that's streaming in from the large glass windows. Katniss' words come back to me. _"Fight."_

"Councilors!" I scream raising my hands in the air.

"Right Honourable Councilors…" Angus whispers behind his hand to me.

"Right Honourable Councilors!" I continue to shout. "Please hear me!" The roars erupt again in the chamber drowning out my words.

"LET HIM SPEAK!" Angus roars at the top of his lungs. The top of his bald head is almost glowing red with rage and his huge chest is pounding up and down. The effect is very intimidating and the room silences almost instantly.

_ "So, that's why he was elected War Chief….he's terrifying. _Right Honourable Councilors,I realize that what I suggest is extreme, but extreme times call for extreme measures…" I search everywhere inside of me for the right words, but there is nothing but panicked silence. I pray for some miracle, when all of a sudden, a single memory pops into my head and I choose to run with it.

"Last evening at Gambols, War Chief McFadden spoke of an ancient anthem that everyone seemed to know. It contained the words, '_Britons never shall be slaves…_"

"What possible relevance does this have?" The Councilor from the Yorks screams out.

"Let him finish!" Angus yells back at him.

"Sir, where the hell are you going with this?" Hatchet whispers at me.

"Just _go_ with it," I respond through nervously gritted teeth before turning back to the Councilors. I begin to pace down the aisle between the benches with purpose. "That song sounds very interesting…"

"It's a drinking song!" another Councilor yells from the back of the room.

"Drinking song aside, it sounds very motivating. Would you all sing it for me?"

"He _is_ mad!" The entire room bursts into laughter. My panic surges back and I have the overwhelming urge to run from the Chamber and hide, but then I hear a voice cry out from behind me.

"_When Britain first, at Heaven's command,"_ It is Angus, belting out the tune loud and forcefully. The laughter continues, but he does not stop. _"__Aro-o-o-ose from out the a-a-a-zure main, Arose, arose, arose from out the a-azure main." _The laughter begins to subside and slowly a few more voices begin to join him. "_This was the charter, the charter of the land, and guardian a-a-angels sang this strain…"_ Then, in a moment I will remember until my dying day, the entire Council Chamber bursts into one glorious chorus:

"_Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves. Britons never, never, never shall be slaves._

_Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves. Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!"_ There is much smiling and laughter afterwards and a few of the Councilors even congratulate Angus on his singing voice.

"So, are you satisfied with our rendition of the tune, General Snow? Or would you like to be entertained by a few more songs?" says the Councilor from the Yorks. The rest of the chamber bursts back into snide laughter. I just smile and look at him.

"No, Sir," I say. "However, I wonder where the spirit of that song went?"

"Please explain yourself, Sir," he replies to me indignantly.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news to you Right Honourable Ladies and Gentlmen, but you _are_ slaves. Every single one of you!" The room erupts into the worst chaos yet, however, I find my voice and yell over all of them so they can hear me. "YOU ARE SLAVES BECAUSE YOU LIVE IN FEAR! YOU LIVE IN FEAR OF THE TEC AND YOU REFUSE TO LEAVE THIS ISLAND TO FIGHT!"

"What the hell are you doing, Sir?" Hatchet tries to scream at me, but her voice is lost in the screaming. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"And succeeding apparently." Every Councilor is on his or her feet pointing, screaming, and totally red faced.

"How dare you, Sir!"

"You come here knowing nothing about us and you insult us!"

"Get those bastards off our island!"

Without warning, Angus flies to his feet and with a mighty roar, slams his stick onto the stone floor. It shatters into pieces and sends everyone in the room into shock.

"He's right!" Angus finally screams. "He's right and we are all fools for not seeing it before. What made our ancestors great?" Every other person in the room stares silently at the floor, afraid to meet the eyes of the Great War Chief in his rage. "No one has the answer? Very well, I'll tell you! It was the courage to meet the enemy _wherever_ and _whenever_: the drive to go forward into the unknown and travel around the globe. Now, we huddle here on this tiny little strip of land, perfectly content to live the rest of our lives, and the lives of our children, and the lives of our children's children, in privation and isolation because we don't want to band together.

These men and women here," he says pointing to us, "traveled alone across the ocean, made it through the TEC blockade. Then, they survived our own attempt to blow them apart, and still had the courage to stand before a hostile crowd and offer to lay down their lives to help us secure our first ever victory against the Techies on _their _soil….and what do we do? We threaten them, we belittle them, and we insult them because we are terrified of losing whatever little control of our lives we have left! We have utterly betrayed the sacrifices those who have come before us and we have damned our children to a life of utter meaninglessness." The Councilors fall to into stunned silence. Their leader's words have obviously wounded them. I am the only one in the room who can look Angus in the face right now, and I swear that I see him flash the tiniest of winks in my direction. "General Snow, I now ask you, as the Chief of the War Council, to take your soldiers and leave Britannia, because we obviously cannot put aside our own differences to join in your war against those who would destroy us…"

All I do is somberly nod to Angus and motion for the rest of the team to stand up and join me. As I lead the four of them toward the door of the Council Chamber, I pray that my crazy idea has not backfired on us. There is only silence. My heart is pounding so loud that I'm afraid everyone in the room can hear it. I'm at the door and I know I have failed. Nothing left now but to pile into the hovercraft, head back to Panem, and let President Holmes know that all her faith in me was completely misplaced, and millions could die because of my ridiculous idea….

"Wait!" a cry rings out from behind us. I turn to see the Councilor of the Yorks standing on his feet. "The tribe of the Yorks votes 'aye' on General Snow's plan." A woman a few rows down stands to her feet next.

"The tribe of the Cornish votes 'aye' as well!" More Councilors start standing now.

"The Picts say aye!"

"The tribe of the Umbrians says 'aye'!"

"Aye from the Mercians!" Soon the whole chamber is chanting together in support. Angus stares back at us with a broad grin from ear to ear.

"Well Sir," Doc says from next to me. "Looks like we're going to war."

"Certainly does, Doc. Certainly Does."

It takes almost a month to make the preparations. Intelligence is gathered and shared between the Capitol and London. Tiller and Ratchet get to work on refining our hovercraft. The stealth has to be perfect this time. With the help of the Brits, the two of them finally make it invisible to even the best radar. Doc sets into his task of helping our new allies establish a more advanced combat triage network designed to handle large amounts of casualties efficiently, and Hatchet helps train the rest of us in infiltration, marksmanship, and close-quarters combat. We will have no one else on the ground to rely on but ourselves.

The Brits are also busy. Pilots come in from all over the country and begin to prep for action. Precious fuel and ammunition are stockpiled, and intense training simulations begin. If we succeed, this will be one of Britannia's finest hours.

In the brief periods of relaxation we find ourselves with, I mostly choose to spend time alone in my room at _The Three Foxes_. I have only been able to talk to Lizzy once for less than five minutes due to the difficulties of the transmissions. It was barely a long enough conversation to let her know I was alive; however, I left out the part that it may not be the case for much longer. She told me how much they were enjoying being by the sea, and how Octavian may be getting ready to say his first words soon. I gave her all my love, and told her to kiss our son for me. Sadly, I think even in that brief exchange of words, my brilliant Lizzy could guess that something major was about to happen.

Tiller has really taken to life in Britannia and frequents the bar downstairs after hours; exchanging stories with the Brit pilots and flirting with Mrs. Marbury. Doc, much like me, seems very private and enjoys his time alone with his books and writing. As for Hatchet, despite her frequent assurances that things are non-existent between Ratchet and herself, I often find that both of them seem to disappear simultaneously. I simply choose not to ask questions or bring it up.

Finally, the chosen day arrives. Preparations are complete and nothing remains but to execute what will no doubt go down as one of the key operations of this whole war. Success or failure: historians will debate our actions for decades to come.

The Hangar underneath London is absolutely packed with personnel, equipment, and aircraft. They will be waiting for one simple word from us: "_Go_." Hopefully, my team and I will still be alive to send it.

The five of us arrive at our hovercraft in full kit, armed to the teeth with weapons, ammo, and communications gear. We'll be doing most of our work on foot, and there will be no going back to the ship after things get started on the ground. As we finish loading onto the hovercraft, Angus comes to meet us.

"Are you ready?" he asks somewhat anti-climatically.

"As we'll ever be," I say smearing some black camouflage paint on my face.

"I just want you to know, General, you and yer men, and woman of course," Hatchet nods in appreciation, "have done more to bring us together in this fight than anyone else in the history we can remember. I really pray that you get those people out of there, but even if you don't succeed, just know that we will continue to fight, both for us and for Panem. _This war will be won_."

The five us all bow in gratitude for Angus' kind words.

"Thank you, Chief," I say reaching out my hand. "It's good to know that at least part of our mission has already succeeded."

"You just make sure that all the other parts succeed as well," he says shaking my hand.

We all board the hovercraft and Tiller starts her up. I reach into my pocket, pull out the Mockingjay pin which has become my constant companion. I can now attach it to my jacket without even looking down.

"For luck," I say to Hatchet.

"We're gonna need it."

The network of conveyor belts and elevators takes control. Our ship passes through a series of tunnels and then begins the quick rise to the surface. Without warning, the dim artificial illumination of the tunnels turns to the absolute natural blackness of British night. Tiller revs the throttle and we lift into the air.

"Where to Boss?" he says jokingly over the intercom.

"Take us to the TEC, Sergeant."


	47. In Shadow's Light Chapter 19

The hovercraft flies through the blackness of night as the Britannic Channel, a narrow strip of water that divides the island from the rest of Continental Europe, rushes pasts a thousand feet below. We have to fly this low. Even though we are in a stealth ship, going any higher would risk possible detection by TEC radar. We are in black-out conditions: two dim red bulbs in the ceiling light the troop compartment and bathe all of us in a demonic glow.

I sit on the bench, tightly gripping my rifle between my legs and nervously flick the sling swivel mount with my thumb. Down at the other end of the compartment, Doc is finishing tightening the straps on his medical aide bags. There is not a single inch of him that doesn't have some kind of medicine, bandage, or some other kind of live-saving supply strapped to it. He has voluntarily decided to carry twice the standard load of aide gear on this mission because we don't know what condition the hostages will be in when we arrive. On top of all that equipment, he still has the standard combat load of weapons and ammunition. The TECs don't recognize any kind of treaty protecting medics and he will be just another target to them. As a result, he will be loaded with about a hundred pounds of dead weight. Even though Doc would never have let us agree to it, the other four of us secretly promised each other that we would protect him with our lives. His knowledge and skills are irreplaceable, and if one of us has to go down to make sure he carries on…._we will_.

Hatchet and Ratchet and seated directly across from me. He stares off into space, lost in his thoughts and I can't blame him. Hatchet pulls a black bandana from her pants pocket and ties it around her head to cover her hair. She then produces a camo stick and begins painting her pale skin. I have come to learn that she finds the same comfort in the methodical preparation for action as I do. It clears the mind and makes one focused on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I seem to be failing this time.

Tiller's voice comes over the intercom:

"We've just crossed the northern beaches and over the TEC. Approximately 45 mikes to landing zone at current heading and speed." I reach up to a terminal behind my shoulder and press the talk button.

"Any sign that we've been detected?"

"Not yet, Sir," he responds. "It looks like those Brits really know how to mess with the TEC's radar system."

"Good to hear, Tiller, keep us posted."

"And Roger," he says before signing off. I go back to nervously fidgeting with my rifle. I check and recheck that my magazine is seated, a round is in the chamber, and the safety is still engaged.

"You know, Sir," Hatchet says looking over to me. "If it was good a minute ago, it's probably still good."

"Yeah, you're right," I say with a grin, trying to hide my uneasiness. I lean back and try to remain still, but that lets my mind wander again. I try to remember the last time I was this scared…

"Ares, stop it! You're driving me crazy!" Lizzy says walking over from the bedroom to the living room and plopping down next to me on the couch. She sighs under the weight of her pregnant belly and flicks her wet hair in my face…I think a little on purpose. I reach over to the end table and pick up the book that has been my bible for the past nine months. Its pages are dog-eared and highlighted from the countless times I've read through them. I flip straight to the chapter I want from memory.

"It's says right here in Chapter 12 that you shouldn't be exercising this hard in the ninth month, Baby. You could accidently dislodge the placenta from the uterine wall…"

"That's it," Lizzy says rolling her eyes. She grabs the book from my hands and throws it as hard as she can against the wall.

"What did you do that for?" I say as I jump up to go grab it.

"Because I'm not a piece of military equipment that you can just read the manual for, Ares! Stop talking like you have to check my oil every day or my engine will seize! _It's my body and I'm the one who's pregnant_. If I don't go for my daily swim, I would become even crazier considering I have to live with you!" Lizzy, my wife, and the only person in the world that I'm truly afraid of when she's angry.

"I'm sorry," I say like a scared little child.

"Now, pick up the book." I automatically reach down and grab it. She points to the waste basket on the other side of the room. "Walk over and put the book in there."

"But we'll need chapters 14 through 25 after you give birth…" I stammer.

"Put…it…in…_the trash_," she says without dropping her finger.

"Yes, Ma'am," I say like a private talking to his drill sergeant in basic training. I quickly run over and obey the order like my life depended on it, because it probably does at this point.

"Ares," she says switching back to her sweet voice, "I know you're just scared that something will happen to the baby. Believe me, I'm scared too, but little Octavian or Katniss will be just fine…"

We both agreed months ago that we didn't want to know the sex of the baby until it was born. Also, we decided that Lizzy would pick the name if it was a boy and I would pick it if it was a girl. She immediately chose 'Octavian' because she thought it was both a homage to my Capitol roots and that it would convey the strength and honor she admired so much in me. I unfortunately, had a much harder time telling her what name I really wanted. Finally, Lizzy sat me down and told me she already knew what name I wanted for a girl.

"Be honest, with me, Ares. You want to name our daughter after her, don't you?" I gathered the courage to tell her something that has been eating me alive inside since childhood. I've always wanted to name my oldest daughter after my mother…but not the woman who gave birth to me: the one who raised me without ever knowing I existed.

I _never_ learned my biological mother's name. I was a just a baby when I was taken by the Rebels. Venus was old enough to know, but she was forbidden by the "R & R" personnel from ever speaking about my parents because of some incident that occurred before I was even born. She left the "R &R" center when I was seven, but after my release she still refused to give me any details about them because it was "too painful." I even tried to look them up in Capitol Records after I became an officer, and only found one detail in Coriolanus Snow's personal file:

_Children: 1 Son (Married)_

_Grandchildren: 2, Venus (Female), Ares (Male): Both remanded to State Custody_

_Son and spouse executed for "Crimes Against Humanity" All names and details deleted and redacted under penalty of law…_

My parents were war criminals: so heinous that they were deleted from history. I let the issue drop right there. I never want to know to them, because I am _not_ their child.

Lizzy has known for years about my feelings for the woman who taught me about sacrifice, loyalty, and love and was totally supportive of my desire.

_"Then Katniss it is…"_

I now look back to Lizzy on the couch and realize how ridiculous I've been, especially considering how wonderful my wife has been to me.

"I'm sorry, Baby," I say feeling like a fool. "I just want to be the good father that I…."

"_That you never had…_" Lizzy says finishing the thought that she knows I'm too humiliated to ever speak aloud."

"Yeah…"

"Ares," Lizzy says. "You will be a _fantastic_ father."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Well, you love me so much that I think you won't have any problem showing that same amount of love to our child." I just smile back at her. "Now, you can continue showing that love to me by getting me a glass of water. I'm too fat to get off this damn couch." I just laugh.

"Beautiful, you are_ not_ fat." Lizzy just points to her baby bump with both hands and I walk to the kitchen afraid to say anything else. Just as I fill a glass from the sink, I hear Lizzy yell my name.

"Ares…" I run back to the living room.

"What is it?" I just have to look down for an answer. There is a puddle of clear liquid on the couch between her legs.

"I think my water just broke." I drop the glass and it spills all over the carpet. "Great, that's two things we have to clean up now…" she mutters.

"You're not due for another three weeks!" I scream out, panic gripping my insides.

"Well, this is definitely your kid because it has its father's impatience…"

"Lizzy, we have to get you to the hospital!" I shout as I start to run around the apartment like a crazy person. "We don't even have your bags packed!"

"Ares!" Lizzy shouts taking charge of the situation that her husband seems overwhelmed by. I walk over and stand in front of her. "I will call the hospital and get a taxi. You, calm down and then go to the bedroom. Get my suitcase out of the closet." She then gives me a detailed list of everything she wants and I mindlessly obey like a robot.

Six hours later, and we're in a birthing suite at Capitol Memorial Hospital. Lizzy is dressed in a gown and lies on the bed as I stand next to her. She squeezes my hand so hard that I lose all feeling in it. Her face is blood red and she is covered with beads of sweat. I try to stay calm, but fail miserably. A doctor is at the foot of the bed with a nurse at his side.

"You're doing great, Lizzy," he says in his soothing professional voice. "We're almost there. I can see the head and it should just be one more contraction."

"Lizzy, you are so beautiful right now," I say gazing down at her.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she screams as the pain grips her one more time.

"Ok…" is the only response I can get out. Lizzy screams at the top of her lungs and then falls silent gasping for air.

"Baby's out," the doctor says reaching for some instruments. The nurse hands him a white blanket and he wraps something in it.

"The baby's not crying," Lizzy says through her exasperated gasps. "Why isn't the baby crying?" I look over to the doctor who is still working.

"I don't know, Baby. I don't know," I say wiping the sweat from her forehead with a washcloth. Suddenly, our mutual terror disappears as we hear the most beautiful sound in the world: _our child's first cries._

"Congratulations, Mom and Dad," The doctor says handing me the bundle. I carefully take it and stare down in utter wonder as the tears start streaming down my face.

"Well?" Lizzy says nervously. "Octavian or Katniss?" I lift up the blanket to check. I smile before handing the baby to her.

_"Octavian"_

"Hey there you," Lizzy says taking her child in her arms for the first time. Both of us are crying almost as much as our son.

"60 seconds to LZ!" Tiller's voice over the intercom brings me back to the present. I snap forward and grip my rifle again.

"Alright," Hatchet says pulling herself up. I want a nice clean dispersion. Fives and twenty-fives: the whole shebang ladies!" Doc and Ratchet laugh as they stand. She hits the intercom and talks to Tiller. "Hey, as soon as you touch down, drop ramp. We'll secure the LZ as you power down. As soon as you're ready, grab your kit and meet us on the ground."

"Understood, Sergeant."

Hatchet then looks over to me as I nervously climb to my feet.

"You know, it's alright to be scared, Sir."

"Good, because I'm terrified right now."

"I think we all are, Sir." Ratchet says. I look down and see his hand find Hatchet's. She squeezes back for a brief second before letting go. I smile and then turn towards the ramp as my confidence returns. The ship goes into a hard vertical hover and then drops straight down onto the landing gear.


	48. In Shadow's Light Chapter 20

The ramp drops and the four of us silently run out into the night. We take our positions around the perimeter of the hovercraft, covering three-hundred sixty degrees of security. As I kneel down in the tall-grass, I take my first look at the Trans-European Commonwealth through my night-vision glasses. All I see around me is the peaceful quiet of a Francian forest and all I hear after the engines shut down are the chirping of crickets and the croaking of a few frogs in a nearby stream. Still, I keep my rifle at the ready in case this place is more than it seems. Tiller expertly put the hovercraft down in this thicket of trees to conceal it from TEC surveillance once the sun rises.

He soon runs down the ramp and joins us as the ship automatically closes behind him. Our vessel is now totally dark and quiet and will remain that way until it is needed again…I'm just sorry that this beautiful place will no longer exist in a little over 12 hours.

Hatchet assembles the team and has the rest of the sergeants rally at my position.

"Everybody got everything they need?" she whispers. "We can't exactly head back here for more supplies." She gets a nod from everyone and then turns to me. "Your show now, Sir."

"Alright," I say pulling out an old-fashioned paper map of the area that I had the Brits make for me. "We're here," I say pointing to a set of coordinates. "Ratchet, that little thingy of yours working?" He pulls out a device from his jacket, clicks it on, and sweeps the area. It was something that I asked him to develop over the past few weeks knowing the TECs have hidden surveillance instruments everywhere in this country.

"Roger Sir, I'm not reading any sensors in this area. If the TECs didn't detect us on the approach in, then I think we're in the clear."

"Well, if that changes, you be sure to let the rest of us know."

"Tracking, Sir."

"How about our little distraction?"

"Set up and ready to go," Ratchet answers patting at something in his jacket pocket. "When you give the order, we'll be golden."

"Alright," I say turning back toward the map. "Amelia's intel put the location of the hostages at a complex here about five miles to our south. The enemy mainframe also says that there's a TEC village here, about a mile away from the camp. Daylight is gonna hit in about an hour. I say we stay in the tree line, and skirt around to the southeast. We can check out the village from the high ground here, and then head straight at the complex and wait for sunset. What does everyone think? Now's not the time to keep your opinions to yourself."

"Sound like a plan to me, Boss," Tiller says confidently. Doc and Ratchet nod in agreement.

"Alright, Let's move," Hatchet says pushing herself to her feet with the butt of her rifle. "I got point." As I shove the map back into my jacket, we all get into a wedge behind her and begin to move through the trees as quietly as we can. Hatchet glides through the foliage like a ghost, pushing aside branches and leaves with the muzzle of her rifle, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The rest of us struggle to keep up with her lead. Every few minutes, I check a compass on my tactical vest to confirm we're still headed in the right direction while Ratchet and Tiller on my left and right check for the enemy. Doc, with his heavy load, brings up the rear constantly searching for anyone who could have snuck up behind us.

As the sun begins to filter through the trees we are already halfway to the TEC village. I run up to Hatchet.

"How do you doing there? Need a break?" I whisper next to her ear.

"Oh, I'm just dandy, Sir" she says without breaking her iron gaze on the path in front of us. "You still reading that compass right?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply. At this rate we'll hit the village in about another hour.

"Ma'am?" she says back indignantly. "I'm no officer, I'm a sergeant. I _work _for a living."

"My apologies, Sergeant" I say with a grin.

"Much better, Sir," she grins back and I fall back into formation.

About forty-five minutes later, Hatchet freezes and drops to the ground. All of us do the same a split second later. She motions for me to join her at the front and I crawl up next to her.

"What have we got, Sergeant?" I whisper. She just points forward. About fifty yards in front us down an embankment, a paved road slices through the forest. I motion for Ratchet to crawl up to us as well. Doc and Tiller continue to provide security to our rear. "Ratchet, any TEC sensors in this area?" He checks his device once again.

"Negative Sir…but…," Suddenly his eyes grow wide. "Duck!" We drop low to the ground just in time for two trucks to come screaming around the bend. Both are military and are loaded with TEC soldiers in their blue armor. They pass by at high speed, not even noticing our presence.

"That was _too _close," Hatchet mutters as soon as they disappear up the road. "Are you sure we need to keep going in this direction, Sir?" I check the map again and realize that we don't have a choice."

"Afraid so, Sergeant."

"Alright, I've got far side security," Hatchet says without questioning my navigation. "Sir, you've got near side."

"Roger." She motions for Tiller and Doc to join us. Then, as we have rehearsed a hundred times, she flies down the embankment and across the road to the other side. She drops into the brush and points her rifle down the road. As soon as I take position on the near side watching the other direction, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all run across the road to join her. Once I think it is clear, I pick myself up and run down the embankment. I dive onto the road, but I make a mistake that almost costs us everything.

In utter overconfidence, I didn't listen closely enough while watching my direction. I'm barely halfway across the roadway when I hear another set of trucks come roaring around the bend. I freeze, thinking I'll have no choice but to open fire. But just before they come into view, I feel a hand grab my arm and yank me across the road in a flash. Hatchet throws me down into the tall grass on the far side and covers me with her body as the TEC vehicles roar past. When we're clear, she pulls me up by my gear and angrily glares in my face.

"What happened to keeping focus when we're in action, _Sir_?" She says my title not out of respect, but as an insult. I hate it when non-commissioned officers do this, but this time she's absolutely right. I could have easily gotten everyone killed. It's a good thing that she moves a lot faster than I could have imagined, or this entire mission would have failed. When I don't offer an immediate response, she just mutters, "Just be sure you tell President Holmes that I'm still doing my job…"

"Roger that, Sergeant."

"Alright, let's keep moving," she says getting the team back in formation. Luckily for me, I don't have very long to curse myself for my mistake, because we arrive at the edge of the TEC village less than ten minutes later.

Hatchet motions for the rest of us to join her at crest of the rise on the outskirts of the settlement. We all crawl up and pull out our binoculars. The village consists of about fifty polished white buildings that gleam in the morning sun. In the center, there is a miniature pyramid about five stories tall, modeled on "The Heart" back in Germania. A set of loudspeakers mounted at the top of its point broadcasts propaganda, and there is a huge portrait of Supreme Lawgiver Grossfrere hung on its exterior. We scan down to see the people, all dressed in white jumpsuits, mindlessly walking through the streets like they were on an automatic pilot.

"_The conflict against the warmongers of Panem continues in glorious fashion…." _

The loudspeakers below broadcast so loudly that we can hear every word almost half a mile away.

"_Triumphant forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth, under direct guidance from the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere, have scored another key victory against combined UDP forces that have allied with the Russian Cossack Hordes that are attempting to push further into TEC territory from the far east…"_

"What the hell is he talking about?" Ratchet asks confused. "There aren't any UDP forces on the continent besides us and we sure as hell haven't allied with any Cossacks or whoever they mean."

"Yeah, but the people down there don't know that," I say without taking my eyes off of the village. "The threat of invasion has always been one of history's greatest motivators."

"_Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere also wishes to extend his personal commendation to the workers of the Rhineland Coal Reclamation Plant, who have increased the production of artificial fuel from 1 million gallons to 1.5 million gallons over the past month while also voluntarily requesting a 50 percent cut in their daily soy protein ration…"_

"Something tells me that cut wasn't voluntary…" Doc says gritting his teeth.

"_And now it is time for the Daily Discipline. We now transfer broadcast to your local government headquarters for today's proceedings: _

_Unus Europa Sub Unus Rector"_

Suddenly a squad of five TEC soldiers appears from the pyramid leading a man in a jumpsuit. We can tell that it was once white, but now has been covered with dirt and blood. His face is bloated and bruised by repeated beatings. The soldiers secure him to a post in the middle of the square in front of the pyramid. Another TEC in officer's armor appears from the pyramid next. He walks over to the man and holds a microphone to his mouth.

"I am Citizen Pontaine," The beaten man speaks into the microphone. His words are broadcast over the loudspeakers for everyone in the village to hear. "I am here because of my ghastly crimes against the Trans-European Commonwealth and the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere. I confess now to the whole world so that I may face justice with a clear conscience: It was my sacred duty to produce fifty bushels of seed grain last quarter, but due to my laziness and sloth, I only produced forty-nine. I now will face my righteous punishment as the law demands!" The officer pulls the microphone away from the man's mouth and walks over to the other soldiers who have formed a firing line. The officer raises his arm, and the TEC soldiers present their rifles.

Doc bolts forward as if he wants to leap down the rise and run straight into the village, but Hatchet's arms stop him.

"Stand down, Sergeant!" she commands in a whisper.

"We have to do something!" he says back to her.

"We _can_ do something, Sergeant," I say looking at him in the face. "We can complete our mission and end this diseased place once and for all."

"But they're going to kill an innocent man right in front of us!" Ratchet reaches out an understanding hand and places it on Doc's shoulder.

"It's too late for him, Brother, but we can still do something for all those other people down there."

The echo of gunfire reaches our ears. Doc slams his fist into the ground.

"It ain't you, man," Tiller says. "Save it. Save it for the fight ahead."

"I think we've seen enough here, Sir," Hatchet says still holding onto Doc.

"I agree. Let's keep moving." We crawl backwards back into the trees and continue our movement around the village. The rest of us keep an eye on Doc but he seems to have followed Tiller's advice and turns his focus back to the mission at hand. Soon, Hatchet stops us again. I run up next to her and look through the trees to see the wire fence of our objective directly below us.


	49. In Shadow's Light Chapter 21

Hatchet motions with her arm for us to follow her. She leads us up behind another small hill to our left and gets us into position to watch the complex unobserved. We take our positions and pull out our binoculars again.

The whole camp is very large and completely surrounded by a wire fence.

"Bet you good money that whole thing is electrified," Ratchet says staring down at the large concrete supports that hold the wire.

"Probably a bet I wouldn't want to take," I whisper back. "Any chance you can take out the generator?"

"No need, Sir. That's why I brought the satchels. Once we take it down, that should drop current to the rest of the wire."

"You sure about that?" Hatchet asks suspiciously.

"Pretty sure."

"Ok then…."

Guard towers ring the complex every hundred yards or so. Each one has a TEC in full armor with a machine gun and a spotlight.

"They're gonna be trouble," Doc says checking out the nearest one to us.

"We'll breach in between two of them," Hatchet says. Left man takes out the one in his sector, Right man takes out the one on the other side. Just keep moving forward and we'll be out of the field of fire before the rest of them can get a bead on us."

The rest of the complex is divided into two sectors: a row of concrete barracks on the east side must serve as prisoner housing. They appear to be completely empty now during the day. On the west side of the camp is a large complex that appears to be some kind of factory. Huge steel tanks tower above the buildings. We can see a massive sliding door that leads inside the concrete mass of the structure. Inside we see immense curtains of sparks being produced by some kind of welding, but we're too far away to see exactly what they're working on. Suddenly, we catch the first glimpse of the hostages.

A boy and girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen push a huge cart full of scrap metal out of the factory on a set of railroad tracks. They look absolutely exhausted. They wear threadbare striped uniforms that hang in tatters from their emaciated, starving bodies. A few yards outside of the factory, the boy stumbles and collapses to the ground. The girl stops the cart and kneels down, trying to shake him back to his feet, but it is too late. A TEC soldier in his faceless armor appears with a leather strap and begins mercilessly whipping the boy who shudders under each painful strike. The girl grabs the arm of the TEC, begging him to stop, but he throws her to the ground next and she meets the same fate as the boy.

"I could kill that son of a bitch from right here…" Hatchet spits out through her teeth as our worst fears are confirmed. The Districts the TECs chose to kidnap their victims from…2, 3, 6, and 13: Mining, Electronics, Transportation, and Weapons…all skills very useful for a war effort.

"_The hostages are being used as slave labor…"_

The boy grabs the side of the cart and agonizingly pulls himself to his feet before grabbing the girl. Two more prisoners who appear to be in their late teens run out from the door and take positions on the sides of the cart. The four of them somehow manage to get the whole thing, which must weigh hundreds of pounds, moving again. The TEC then turns his attention to the other teens who arrived to help and whips them each a few times. The two good Samaritans take their blows before running away back inside the factory. As the two original kids continue in their assigned back-breaking labor, the TEC loses interest and walks back to his post.

"That could have easily been me down there," Ratchet says barely able to breathe.

"Or me," Tiller says.

"That could have been all of us," I spit out, keeping my rage inside. "This ends tonight…"

"Amen," Doc says nodding his head.

"Get down!" Hatchet says. Two TEC soldiers walk the perimeter on the outside of the fence. They pass within twenty yards of us before disappearing down their patrol route. When we're sure they're gone, we pop back up and go back to watching the camp. More young prisoners appear doing various menial tasks outside of the factory, but no adults can be seen.

"They must be inside doing something more complex," Ratchet says. "We used the same system in the factories in District 3 back home."

"But something tells me you don't use a lash to keep the kids motivated…" Doc says.

"Well, not since the fall of the Capitol."

"That aside, the Question is '_what are the adults building_?" Tiller says.

"_And Bingo was his name-o_," Hatchet sings under her breath. The rest of us look at her strangely. "Eleven o'clock, balcony overlooking the main work yard." I scan with my binoculars over to where Hatchet said. There, leaning against a metal rail with his long hair pulled back and his white jumpsuit and Reevox collar shining in the sun, is Rikard Ohm, gloating over his new empire.

"_He's mine…_" I say as my hands clench around my binoculars.

"Alright, Sir," Hatchet says calmly, "but if he's still breathing when the sun rises tomorrow morning, I'm taking it out of your hide."

"Don't worry, that won't be a problem."

We continue to watch the complex through the afternoon. As the sun begins to go down, a loud whistle blows and hundreds of UDP prisoners begin to pour out of the factory doors. They mindlessly form lines at their respective barracks where large cauldrons have been set up. They each take a bowl of thin gruel and pile one by one into their barracks for the night as a TEC soldier makes a mark for each prisoner on a clipboard.

As darkness completely falls, we slowly make our way behind the hill and prepare ourselves for the night's events.

"We'll breach the wire next to the barracks," I whisper to my team. "We'll then clear the immediate area and then Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc will move through. Get the prisoners assembled. Treat the ones who can't move and get them stabilized. While you guys keep an eye on the passengers, Hatchet and I will move through the rest of the complex, neutralize any remaining TECs, and then move back to the assembly area to wait for our ride."

"What about Ohm?" Hatchet asks looking at me.

"Like I said…he's _mine_."

"What if our ride is late?" Doc asks concerned.

"Then, we fight till we run out of ammo….then we keep fighting until we run out of life…."

"Understood, Sir."

"Hopefully," I continue, "our distraction will take care of most of the TECs until the eagles arrive."

"Do you really trust the Brits that much, Sir?" Tiller says.

"Do we really have a choice?"

"No."

"Another thing," I say turning to Hatchet. "If the ride gets here, and Hatchet and I haven't made it back to you guys….don't wait. Get these innocent people out of here."

"What the hell, Sir?" Ratchet asks angrily. "What are you two supposed to do? Walk home?"

"No, he's right," Hatchet says turning to Ratchet. "Our priority is them. The Sir and I are replaceable. Those we protect, are not. Got it?"

"Roger, Sergeant," Ratchet says looking down at the ground. Hatchet leans over, grabs Ratchet by the chin, and lifts his face to meet her eyes.

"Got it?" she says even more firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," he says.

"Don't worry," I say to the group as an image of Lizzy and Octavian flashes through my mind. "I have no intention of dying on the other side of the planet today unless I have to. We all have loved ones to get back to when this is all over."

Suddenly, we hear the rustle of leaves just on the other side of the hill. I give the hand signal to scatter and we all dive into the tree line. Hatchet and I land next to each other behind a log a few yards away just as the bright beams of two flashlights cut through darkness. Two TEC perimeter guards walk down the hill and scan the area right where we were sitting a few seconds before.

"_Dammit, It's too soon!"_ I think as my heart pounds in my chest. _"The sun's barely gone down!"_ The guards continue to scan the area.

"Are you sure you heard something?" one says to other.

"Yeah, I thought it sounded like people whispering."

"Probably just wild dogs. They like to hunt out here when the sun goes down."

"Wild dogs don't whisper, idiot."

I nudge Hatchet and she turns to me.

"Make it quiet," I silently mouth to her. She nods and disappears like a phantom behind me. I continue to watch the two of them for a second as they keep scanning the woods with their flashlights. Suddenly, I hear the sound of steel slicing through the air. A throwing axe buries itself deep into the visor of the guard nearest to me and he collapses to the ground dead. Before the other guard can even react, a black shape flies out of the darkness and latches onto his back. Hatchet rips the helmet from his head and covers his mouth her hand. He fights and struggles for a few brief moments, but stops resisting as a knife plunges into his neck. The TEC twitches violently, but then slowly slides limp down Hatchet's front to the ground.

The rest of us join her as she pulls her axe from the first guard's face, flicks the blood off its edge in one fluid motion, and then sticks it back into her belt. We look down at our first two victims and take stock of our new situation.

"It won't be long before they notice these two are missing," Tiller whispers.

"What now, Sir?" Doc says. I turn to Hatchet and she stares back at me.

"We need to go _now_, Sir." I pull a radio from my vest and hit the transmit button.

"Tower, this is Mockingjay. _Rule Britannia_. I say again, _Rule Britannia_." After a few nervous seconds of static, Maggie's voice comes over my earpiece.

"_Mockingjay, this is Tower. Acknowledged. Eagles are taking flight now, Godspeed Sir."_

"Alright, Ratchet, time for our little distraction." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a detonator.

"Are you sure they're going to be able to notice that from five miles away?" I ask nervously.

"Sir, her fuel tanks are almost full, she's got a full load of ordinance onboard, and I even took the liberty of borrowing four Mark VI bunker busters from the Brits. When this thing goes up, you'll be able to see it from orbit…" Ratchet arms the detonator and places his thumb over a red button.

"Wait," I say turning to the rest of the team. "When this goes, there's no turning back. We fight until those people are free or we die trying. Understand?" Everyone nods.

"We should do it together. Everybody's responsible," Hatchet whispers. Ratchet holds the detonator in the middle of our circle and we each put a hand over the button.

"For Panem…" I say.

"For Panem," everyone echoes back.

"On three," Ratchet says.

"One," Doc whispers.

"Two," Tiller continues.

"Three…" I finish. All of us firmly mash down on the detonator. A light brighter than the sun scorches the sky. We look to the northern horizon as our hovercraft explodes in a brilliant fireball that lifts up into the stratosphere. A few seconds later, the shockwave hits us and nearly blows us off our feet. It feels like being punched in the chest by a giant.

Just like Cortes a millennium before, we have arrived in a new world and burned our ships behind us. There is no choice but to fight like hell and hope we come out alive.

"_Victory or Death!"_


	50. In Shadow's Light Chapter 22

The TECs react immediately, just as we hoped. The soldiers all assemble into trucks and fly out of the front gate to the north, leaving just a skeleton crew behind to guard the prisoners. Once they're gone, I give the signal for us to move.

We fly around the compound's perimeter till we are directly across from the fence outside of the barracks.

"Go, Ratchet. Go!" I scream. He pulls two bundles from off his back and charges straight for the fence. The TECs in the guard towers have their searchlights on, but they're all focused inside of the compound, making sure that no prisoners take advantage of the confusion of the explosion to make a break for it. Ratchet winds up and throws the two bundles at the base of the fence, exactly fifty yards between two of the towers. Once the packages have landed safely, he bolts back to us, makes a jump, and lands directly next to me. He pulls another detonator from his pocket.

"At your command, Sir."

"Blow it! Blow it!" I shout. Ratchet hits the button.

"_BOOM!_" A massive explosion rocks the fence and blows a twenty foot wide hole in the wire precisely where we wanted it.

"Let's rock!" Hatchet screams and we run straight at the breach in a full sprint. Hatchet is on the left and I am on the right. The guards in the towers were stunned by the blast. They are just climbing back to their feet as we pass below. Hatchet and I each fire a quick burst from our rifles, neutralizing both TECs and clearing our way inside the complex.

"Tiller, Ratchet!" Hatchet screams over her shoulder. "Take Doc and head for the barracks. Sir, you're with me!" The three of them head for the concrete buildings to our left. Several TEC guards appear from in between the structures, but are quick work for Tiller, Ratchet, and Doc's rifles. As Hatchet and I head for the factory, we hear the three of them begin to kick down the locked doors and run inside. Doc shouts in his thick District 12 accent to the prisoners.

"UDP Defense Force! We're here to get you out!"

Hatchet and I continue to run through the darkness. Suddenly, a burst of machine gun fire peppers the ground around us and we dive for cover behind a scrap metal cart that was left on the tracks when the day's work was done. Bullets ricochet off the heavy metal of the cart's frame as Hatchet quickly peers around the edge with her night vision glasses.

"TEC in a tower: about fifty yards."

"Right or left?" I shout back to her.

"Right, one o'clock."

"Cover me!" Hatchet sticks her rifle over the top of the cart and opens fire. Her bullets cause the TEC in the tower to pause just long enough for me to dive from behind the cart and run towards the factory. He sees me sprinting through the darkness, but before he can swing his machine gun onto my position, I have him in my sights. A quick pull of the trigger, and he falls backwards to the ground. The searchlight next to him explodes into a shower of sparks as bullets rip through its bulb.

Hatchet rolls from behind the cart and runs to join me. As we approach the factory, we see that the main door has been sealed, but there is a smaller service entrance right next to it. We run towards the door, but before we reach it, it flies open. A TEC guard stumbles out into the night holding a rifle. We both see that he has the leather strap used to beat the children earlier still attached to his hip. I fire a quick burst from my rifle and hit him in the shoulder. He collapses to his knees and throws his weapon to the ground before raising his arms in a gesture of surrender.

Hatchet runs up next to me and stares into his black visor.

"People from Panem seem a little scarier when they can actually fight back don't they?" she says as she pulls her pistol. She sticks the muzzle right against his helmet and pulls the trigger, splattering the factory wall with blood and brains. The guard falls forward to the ground and we continue running through the service entrance and into the factory. As we climb a short flight of stairs up into the main bay, we both pause in shock.

This facility is massive. Bright lights illuminate an assembly line that runs down the center of the bay. Both sides are lined with long pneumatic hoses and thick electrical wires that power the heavy equipment along the line. A huge cauldron filled with molten steel bubbles at the far end.

TECs appear from a doorway on the other side of the bay and Hatchet and I both open fire simultaneously. Half of the TECs fall, but the rest dive for cover behind a bay of equipment. As they return fire, we do the same. The sound of bullets ricocheting echoes off the steel walls around us.

"Sir, do you care about the equipment in here?" Hatchet screams over the noise.

"What do you think?" I shout back.

"Good," she reaches down onto her vest and pulls out a hand grenade. I do the same. We pull the pins at the same time and launch them across the assembly line. The two explosions send out waves of deadly shrapnel and make quick work of the remaining TECs. Slowly, we emerge from behind our cover and look around the assembly line. One project remains under construction in front of us. It is long and cylindrical, about fifty yards long and two yards wide. Fins were in the process of being welded to the aft portion when the day's work ceased.

"It looks like some kind of missile, but I've never seen one this big before," Hatchet says without taking her eyes off of the device.

"I've read about these…" I mutter back to her. "But they haven't existed in almost three hundred years."

"What?"

"It looks like an ICBM: _Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile_. There used to be thousands of them scattered across the globe until some idiot finally decided to use one and touched off a firestorm that killed half the planet."

"What does it do?"

"They're meant to carry heavy warheads up into space, and then they come screaming back down onto the other side of the globe and detonate over an enemy target."

"Nuclear?" Hatchet asks.

"Usually, but not always."

"Didn't the Capitol and District 13 get into a stand-off using these things after the Dark Days?"

"They _did_ get into a nuclear stand-off, but all their missiles were low-powered and barely able to fire across Panem. No one could figure out how to build one that could push into space after the atmosphere was thinned-out by the Global War, but it looks like Ohm finally solved the problem."

"What are the TECs gonna use Nukes for?" Hatchet asks totally confused. "I thought they wanted our resources. If they irradiate the whole UDP, we'd be worthless to them."

"I have as much idea as you do right now…"

A burst of pistol fire slices through the air around us. A round finds Hatchet's right leg and she collapses next to me, screaming in pain. I dive for cover behind a control panel and pull her by her vest into safety with me.

"Hello there, God of War!" I hear Ohm scream from across the bay. "It is so good to see you again, old friend, and it seems that you brought a _goddess_ with you this time as well! Shame, shame, Ares. Does Mrs. Snow know you're out gallivanting around the world with another woman while she stays at home with the little one?"

I look down at Hatchet's leg, bright crimson spews from a gaping hole in her thigh. I immediately pull the bandana from her head and wrap it tightly around the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Her long, blonde hair falls into a mess around her shoulders.

"Dammit," she screams in pain. "Not like this, not now!" she repeats to herself.

"You're gonna be fine, Hatchet….Damn you, Rikard!" I scream across the bay.

"Oh come now, Ares," his artificial voice shoots back at me. "You didn't think it would be that easy did you? I always love giving you choices, remember? The sexy lumberjack's life or the man who's sworn revenge against you? Tick tock, tick tock!" The maniacal laughter I have grown to hate more than anything else in the world echoes all around me. I look over the top of the control panel to see him disappear into a hallway behind a door marked, "Primary Agent Testing."

"Sir, he hit the artery," Hatchet says growing more and more pale by the second. "I'm a dead woman. Go, go and get him!" I look down to see the bandana has become loose because it is saturated with blood. I reach down, grip its ends, and pull as tight as I can. Hatchet screams in pain again.

"That hurts!"

"Good, that means it's working."

"Sir, please," she says reaching up and gripping my vest with a blood-covered hand. "When you get back to the others, can you tell Ratchet something that I haven't been brave enough to tell him? Can you tell him…that _I love him_?"

"C'mon, Hatch," I say looking straight into her eyes. "You're more of a man than I am. Reach down, grab your lady-balls, and tell him yourself." I leap up to my feet, grab Hatchet's arm, and pull her onto my back.

"What the hell are you doing, Sir? He's getting away!"

"Remember that whole thing you said about you and me being replaceable? Yeah, I think that's bull…." I say running back toward the outside.

"Sir, if Ohm gets away I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Only when Doc gets that leg of yours working again." I run back out into the night and see that Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc have pulled off a miracle. The entire prisoner population of the camp is assembled and ready to move in front of the barracks. A few of them have even picked up weapons from the fallen TECs and help pull guard around the others. I see my team speaking with a few of the prisoners and sprint up to them.

"Olivia!" Ratchet screams when he sees Hatchet on my back. I put her down as gently as I can in front of them. She has already passed out from blood loss by the time Doc gets to work stabilizing her.

"Don't worry, Ratch," Doc says replacing my improvised tourniquet with a real one. "It's a clean wound and she's not in shock. I'll give her my own blood if I have to."

"Just don't let her go, Man! Don't let her go!"

"Sergeant Hightower!" I scream into his face. "She's going to be fine," I say trying to calm him down. "Trust me, you _both_ will be fine," I flash him a glance and somehow he understands, "Now, are the rest of these people ready to move?"

"Yes Sir," Doc says without looking up from Hatchet's leg. He pulls out a syringe and sticks it into her arm. "Morphling mixed with antibiotics…she's gonna feel great when she wakes back up.

"I though you said you only used morphling as a last resort?" Ratchet says in a panic.

"Well, she's a friend. Thought I'd hook her up." Doc smiles at Ratchet who actually manages a little laugh. "We've found the mayors of the Districts and they've assembled their people into groups." He pulls an IV from his aide bag and starts a flow of saline into Hatchet's arm. "They're getting a roll call from everyone now, but there shouldn't be anyone missing because the factory shuts down at night. The TEC soldiers apparently like to drink themselves stupid after dark."

"Well, that explains a lot…Do we know of any prisoners that died in captivity?" The other three of them fall silent for a second.

"Yes Sir, Tiller says. Mayors were telling me that there were selections. Every few days, they'd pick a young healthy hostage and take them away into another part of the factory. None of them have been seen since."

"Alright then," I say feeling a burning rage rising inside me again. I pick myself up and turn back towards the factory.

"Where the hell you going, Sir?" Ratchet says to me.

"I'm going after Ohm. If the eagles arrive while I'm gone, leave me behind and get back to Britannia."

"Sir, at least let me go with you! I want payback for her."

"Don't worry, Ratchet, they'll be plenty of time for that later. This war's a long way from over…"


	51. In Shadow's Light Chapter 23

I run back into the factory with my rifle at the ready. I rapidly scan around the whole bay, unsure if Ohm has set another trap for me. The place seems deserted: the only sounds are the slow rattle of the chains that hang from the ceiling and the bubbling sizzle of the molten steel still in the furnace.

I dash across the bay toward the door marked, "Primary Agent Testing."

_ "Somehow, I really don't like the sound of that…"_

Without warning, gunshots ring out from a catwalk overlooking the steel furnace. I'm barely able to dive behind another control panel as a rain of fire pours down onto me. I catch a quick glimpse around the edge of control panel to see ten TEC soldiers lined up like a firing squad with perfect position over me. If I try to move to my left or right: I'm dead. If I try to return fire, I'm dead.

_"This is a great situation you've gotten yourself into, Ares. So what the hell are you going to do now?"_

I look around me, hoping for some kind of inspiration. Glancing over to a glass window right next to the door that Ohm ran through, my reflection stares back at me. For a moment, I pause to see the panic and fear in my eyes: the last desperate gaze of the prey caught in a trap. But then, something else catches my attention. The TECs standing on the catwalk are still firing away, but behind them is a huge boom crane attached to the ceiling that must be used to add fresh metal into the top of the furnace. It's massive cable chain and hook dangle just behind the TECs. I keep looking at the reflection in the window to see the glowing control panel that I'm hiding behind is labeled with a single phrase: "_Main Crane Control_."

_"Sorry guys, nothing personal…"_

I spin around and slam my palm down onto a glowing button above my head. A booming alarm begins ringing across the whole bay and the TECs instantly cease their fire.

"GET OFF THIS THING NOW!" Their leader shouts, but it's too late. The boom crane comes to life and starts moving toward the center of the bay. The hook slams into the bottom of the catwalk, ripping it off the wall. The end of the gangway falls straight into the boiling cauldron of molten steel and the TECs plunge into the furnace to be instantly incinerated. Their screaming makes my skin crawl, but I know that I didn't have a choice. It was their life…_or mine_.

I jump to my feet and fly through the door of Ohm's escape only a few feet away. I find myself in a long white hallway and placing my rifle into my shoulder, I slowly move forward. There is a door to my left. I kick it open and run inside. It is a small laboratory, filled with dozens of different beakers and test tubes of chemicals.

Across the hall, another room awaits. Inside is row after row of sealed plastic boxes filled with white laboratory rats. A few of them are still alive, but most of them lie motionless on the floor of their cage. I turn back into the hallway and come to a corner. I kneel down on the ground and fling my crouching body around the edge, scanning for enemies. All I find is a large pair of steel doors. One is marked with the biohazard symbol and the other is printed with the words, _"Human Subject Chamber: Authorized Personnel Only."_

My legs tremble with fear. With every fiber of my being, I know that I don't want to find out what's on the other side of this barrier, but I also know I don't have a choice. I stumble forward, keeping my rifle held high. When I am only inches away, I reach out with my left hand and grab the handle.

"_One…two….three!"_ I slam down the handle and push the doors open. I fly inside rapidly scanning all the corners. At first glance, the room appears to be empty. It is large, but still has the feeling of being very claustrophobic. A bank of control panels line the wall to my left while a raised platform to my right holds five computer workstations. Finally, jutting out from the far wall, is a large plastic chamber. I recognize it instantly from my childhood nightmares. It is the same as the one that killed _Subject E_…my great-aunt, Medea. This place is for testing the weapon that I prayed beyond all hope that I would never face again…_Shiver_.

The door to the chamber lies open. Inside is a steel chair with its back turned toward me…and a motionless prisoner sits still strapped to it.

"Hey," I shout out to the figure in the chair. "I'm here to help you. I'm from the UDP Defense Forces." There is no response. Slowly, I make my way toward the door of the chamber, hoping to see some sign of life from the chair, but there is none. "Can you hear me?" I say as I step inside the chamber. "Are you alright?" I reach forward, grab the edge of the chair, and spin it towards me. My heart freezes in my chest and I gasp for air as I see the mangled face of a man that stares back at me with the same agonizing expression that cursed Medea's young face so many years ago.

Gunshots ring out and slam into the plexiglass of the gas chamber wall behind me. I spin around to see Ohm standing behind the row of computer monitors holding a pistol. He fires again, attempting to shoot through the door of the gas chamber at me. Ironically enough, what saved my wife from drowning last year would have killed me. If this chamber had not been bullet-proof, I would be dead.

I whip around and duck down behind the plexiglass. Ohm continues to fire rounds that splatter harmlessly against the gas chamber wall. He runs out from behind the computers, trying to get a better shot, but just as he finds a clear path to my head, I hear exactly what I was hoping for:

"_Click…Click…_" Ohm is empty. I run out from the chamber and point my rifle directly at him.

"Drop it, Rikard!" I shout. He simply gets a bored look on his face and throws his pistol nonchalantly to the ground.

"You know, Ares, this artificial arm I've developed for myself is wonderful….but sometimes it lacks the finesse to be able to perform fine motor skills such as shooting a handgun."

"You didn't seem to have a problem when you hit Hatchet in the leg…."

"As you once said to me before, My Dear Ares, _I was aiming for you_."

"Guess this wasn't your lucky day then?"

"Obviously." He motions to the corpse in the gas chamber. "I see you've met my newest friend," he says with a psychopathic grin. "He has just been sitting there like that since I conducted my latest experiment this afternoon. Not a great conversationalist I suppose…"

"What happened to using Shiver only on Snows?"

"Oh, Ares, I changed my mind. I mean, why limit myself to only the one I wish to revenge myself upon when I can use it against the whole country that stood idly by while I was enslaved!" He pauses for a second. "Plus, my new employer pays much better than Driva ever did. In fact, with the help of a few volunteers such as this fine, but quiet young gentlemen, I've actually improved the recipe. It now breaks down into harmless vapors twice as fast while still retaining full lethality."

"Volunteers? They were innocent people, you sick bastard! They were innocent people that you helped steal from their homes, forced into slavery, and then murdered for your twisted, perverted enjoyment…"

"No one in Panem is innocent!" Ohm shouts back at me. "_No one_…Oh yes, they were all willing to throw off the chains of our old oppressors but as soon their comfortable lives returned they were all too happy to sell themselves to a different master in exchange for a tiny amount of comfort and the illusion that they had any personal choice in the direction of their lives.

That's why my old associate was so pathetic. Money, money, money…that's all he ever thought about. It wasn't until I convinced him that his past crimes could be redeemed by joining in my little quest to eliminate the Sixteen that he was even willing to help me."

"What are you talking about, Rikard?" I ask angrily.

"Oh Ares, for such an intelligent man, you certainly are stupid. Did it ever occur to you once in the last year exactly how I was able to move an army of men and materiel to a remote island in the South Pacific without ever being noticed by the authorities? How I was able to move secretly across the entire nation of Panem and kidnap people who were being watched twenty-four hours a day without drawing any suspicion? I had an assistant who always made sure the books were properly cooked and certain itineraries were always doctored."

"Who was it, Rikard?"

"Don't you already know? I mean, he was number two at Ohm Defense Industries and now I believe he's even moved into my old job…"

"_No…It's Gale Hawthorne" _

"But worry not, My Dear Ares. I've found him far too stupid and conceited to continue to serve a purpose in my life. Besides, he'll be dead soon anyway…_they all will_."

"What do you mean?" I ask angrily.

"Questions, questions…Well, I'm afraid I'll have to wait for our next meeting to answer more things for you, Ares."

"They're won't be a next meeting, Rikard."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I'm not going to make the same mistake again…"

"And what mistake was that?"

"Letting you live…"

"My Dear Ares, I…" He doesn't finish the sentence. I fire a single round straight into his forehead. It punches a hole clean through his skull and sends pink mist floating in the air behind his white hair like a halo. Ohm's eyes grow wide and he collapses face first to the ground.

I walk over to the corpse of the man who has tormented my friends and family for the past two years. The same man who has started a war that could cost millions of lives for his own petty revenge and greed. He might have been a valuable source of information alive, but the world is safer now that he's dead. Justice, at last, has been served. I roll the body over, reach down, and grab Ohm's new Reevox collar from around his neck.

"_That's two…" _

I run through the factory and back outside to meet the others. They are still waiting in front the barracks for help to arrive. Ratchet cradles an unconscious Hatchet gently in his arms as Doc and Tiller continue to keep order among the newly liberated prisoners. Many of them are starting to become restless that they are still in the camp.

"Where's Ohm?" Ratchet asks nervously as he sees me run up. I just hold up Ohm's Reevox collar.

"Let's just say he won't be a problem anymore."

"Hell yeah, Sir!"

"Let's not pop the corks yet," I say looking down at the sleeping Hatchet. "How's she doing?" Doc comes up from behind me. "She's stable and ready for transport. Stopped the bleeding but I don't want her moving around too much. Could cause the wound to open back up again."

"What about the Eagles? Have we heard anything from them?"

"Negative, Sir..." Tiller says very frustrated.

"_Dammit, Angus! Where are your people at? If we don't move soon the TECs could regroup and…"_

From down the road, comes the roar of dozens of trucks barreling toward us.

We're too late. The TECs have realized that our hovercraft's destruction was only a distraction. Now, they're streaming back toward the camp ready for a fight. Soon, we'll be totally outmanned, outgunned, and out of time.


	52. In Shadow's Light Chapter 24

"Get back behind the barracks!" I shout to everyone. Screams erupt as the crowd surges between the concrete blockhouses hoping to find some shelter from the coming TEC storm.

Headlights appear in the distance as I help Ratchet lift Hatchet and carry her limp body behind the corner of the nearest building.

"Careful!" Doc shouts as we place her back on the ground. He quickly checks her wound to make sure that she doesn't begin to bleed out again. The hundreds of men, women, and children around us drown out my thoughts with screams of terror and misery. Each and every one of them felt the warm embrace freedom again for the briefest of seconds, but now it seems that they will soon be returned to slavery…or _worse_.

The roar of the TEC trucks comes right up to the fence surrounding the compound. Bright headlights shine into the complex, illuminating the whole area in sickly white light. As we hide in the shadows of the concrete barracks, I get the distinct impression that this is what a mouse feels like when he knows he is hopelessly cornered by a cat. We hear hundreds of soldiers dismount from the back of the vehicles and take their positions, cocking their weapons with a symphony of sinister and foreboding clicks.

"Where the hell are they?" Ratchet screams as the horde of civilians pushes against him. He bends down, trying to shield Hatchet's body from the crushing onslaught.

"Probably couldn't make it through the TEC air defense grid," Tiller says staring up into the empty sky. "Engaged by TEC attack ships and shot down."

"Either way, that doesn't help us out much," Doc says as he finishes re-bandaging Hatchet's wound.

"Or them…" I say as I look to the terrified mass of humanity around us. Their fear is contagious and I grow weak as I realize the situation has become a hopeless last stand.

_"UDP War Criminals…"_ an officer says from outside of the fence over the shrill blast of a bull-horn._"There is no hope of escape. You are completely surrounded by the brave forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth in service to the Man Among Men, The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere."_

"Well, he sounds like a real friendly fellow…" Doc says clutching his weapon to his chest. I look over to see a young girl, no more than nine or ten years old huddled against her mother's chest. She is trembling with fear as silent tears run down her face. Her mother gently strokes her back, trying to keep her calm. It seems pointless to me considering the circumstances, but this single gesture of peace seems to do more to assure the young girl that things will be alright more than any amount of guns, knives, or bombs that my team has arrived with. My eyes meet the mother's eyes and I am torn by the deep look of betrayal and sorrow she flashes back to me. It is as if she is saying, "What right did you have to come here at all if you only increased our suffering?" But despite her quiet loathing of me, she continues to lovingly calm her child in the face of the entire world's hatred.

_"If you throw down your weapons and end your pointless insurrection….I assure you that the Supreme Lawgiver in his infinite mercy and sense of justice will forgive your current crimes with only the minimum loss of life necessary to make amends…."_

The mother and child continue to burn into my consciousness. Suddenly, they transform in my mind from strangers into Katniss and Prim. The old Mockingjay is angry that the new Mockingjay has failed in his task.

_"I told you to fight, Ares,"_ Katniss' words echo through my brain. _"I told you to fight…but not for victory, not for revenge…I told you to fight so that you could come back to us. I told you to fight so that the innocent could love…love in peace that is free from the hatred and oppression of evil men…" _I look down to my chest. The Mockingjay pin shimmers in the reflected light of the TEC headlights. _"Are you going to give up and surrender…or are you going to sacrifice everything so that they breathe free of the tyrant's lash for a few more precious seconds?"_

"What are we gonna do, Boss?" Tiller asks staring at my blank expression.

_"UDP War Criminals! This is your last chance. Surrender now!"_

I lift up my rifle. My finger finds the release lever and I let my half-empty magazine fall to the ground. Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet look at me in utter disbelief.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Ratchet screams at me.

Now, at the end of it all, I have come to the most beautiful revelation of my life. If I live another thousand years, every one of those minutes will be in vain if I let that mother's simple gesture of love to her child go to waste. If I surrender in the hope of living, and force them back under the yolk of oppression, than every ounce of faith and love ever placed in me by Lizzy, Katniss, Peeta, General Sturm, and all the others will mean nothing and I will prove Ohm correct…I would become a monster…

I look straight at the rest of my team and say:

"Tonight, the odds are not in our favor…._to hell with the odds!" _I reach down to my vest, pull out a fresh magazine, and slam it into the receiver of my rifle. I leap up to my feet, spin out from the corner of the barracks, and unload my weapon on full automatic in the direction of the TEC officer's voice.

_"AHHHHHHH!" _he screams into the bull-horn as his body is riddled with bullets. I dive back into cover just as the entire TEC army opens fire into the concrete walls of the barracks. Doc, Tiller, Ratchet, and I stick our weapons out from behind the corner and return fire. The few prisoners with weapons push their way up to the front and join us in fighting back. Both sides exchange volleys for a few furious seconds until….

A deafening roar screams in from the sky and the TEC front line explodes in a brilliant curtain of fire. We look up to see a British attack hovercraft roar by directly over our heads. The confused TECs point their weapons up into the sky but soon fall under a steel rain of shells as an entire British squadron begins circling the wire fence of complex.

"Tiller, Ratchet!" I scream over the maelstrom. "Mark the LZ!"

"Cover us!" Tiller screams as he runs out into the open area between the barracks and the factory. Doc and I leap out from behind the blockhouses and furiously start unloading our weapons in the direction of the disoriented enemy.

Tiller and Ratchet reach the open area and begin pulling flare after flare from their pockets. They slam the tubes into their hips, igniting a brilliant orange flame, before they drop the markers into a pre-arranged pattern on the ground. When their job is done, they run back to us and we begin to gather the prisoners together.

"Get ready to move!" I scream as I scan the crowd. I find the mother and her child and scoop them both into my arms, shielding their bodies with my own as a few TEC rounds continue to pepper the wall over our heads. However, the enemy soon knows that the fight against such a fierce aerial barrage is useless. The survivors try to flee into the woods, but are quick prey to the marauding Brits in the sky.

Four massive British transports appear from the north and touch down precisely on Tiller and Ratchet's Landing Zone. Their ramps drop and teams of British commandos pour from their hulls. Half run toward us and the other half joins in the hunt for the remaining TECs.

"Let's go!" I shout to the others when I see the coast is clear. I lift the mother and her child to their feet and get them moving towards the transports. I look back to see Ratchet and Doc lift Hatchet and follow me. Tiller rallies the mass of prisoners behind him and soon all of the UDP refugees are on their way to freedom. I run up the ramp of the nearest hovercraft and deposit the mother and child safely in the troop compartment. I immediately turn to run back outside but feel a hand grab mine. I turn to see the mother, holding onto me, tears streaming down her face.

"Thank you," she finally manages to get out through her breathless lips.

"No," I say quickly kneeling down in front of her and her daughter. "Thank you." I lean forward and kiss her hand before breaking away and running back down the ramp past the crowd of other prisoners climbing aboard the transport. I look around and see that the other transports are fast filling up as well.

In the sky over our heads, two more British Squadrons of attack hovercraft have appeared and are circling the entire valley. I can hear an air raid siren blast through the night from the village a mile away and searchlights futilely scan the sky.

Tiller and Doc appear behind me.

"Where's Ratchet?' I ask.

"Back on the first hovercraft," Doc says. "He's making sure Hatchet is safely secured and good to move."

The three of us do a quick search of the entire complex, ensuring that no one is left behind before we rally back in front of the transports. A British commando runs up to me.

"Sir, everyone's aboard! We have to go now!"

"Tiller! Take the transport on the far end. Doc, take the third one, and I'll take the second one. Ratchet is already on board the first. I'll see you back on the ground in Britannia."

"Roger, Sir!"

"Got it!" We all run to our respective transports and climb aboard. I turn to the British crew chief in the troop compartment.

"Hand me that headset." He tosses it to me and I quickly place it over my head. As I look down the massive bay loaded to capacity with a sea of humanity rejoicing in their deliverance, I speak into my microphone.

"All Ark elements, this is Mockingjay. Last passengers are aboard. Let's set sail for the Promised Land…"

_"Acknowledged, Mockingjay. This is Ark 1. Moving."_

The ramp closes, the engines engage, and we lift straight into the air. As I feel us flying toward the north, I key my microphone again.

"Ratchet, Doc, Tiller, respond in sequence…"

_"Ratchet, Acknowledge."_

_"This is Doc, Acknowledge."_

_"Tiller, Acknowledge."_

"Roger, we're headed out over the valley. Commence Operation Prometheus." I turn to the British Crew Chief again and point toward a large crate sitting next to an outer door. We stand next to it and fasten ourselves to the frame of the hovercraft with safety harnesses. When I'm ready, I signal to the Crew Chief who releases the door and slides it open. A blast of cold wind fills the troop entire compartment. We push the crate toward the open door, knock open the top latches, and push it out into the sky.

As soon as the blast of wind hits the crate, it breaks apart releasing thousands of paper leaflets over the TEC countryside below. I hold onto the sides of the doorway and lean out into the night. I see that each of the other three transports have released their messages as well. I look to the valley floor five thousand feet below to see a blizzard of a paper falling onto the little TEC village.

It was actually Angus who came up with the idea for the leaflets, but he asked me to write the text:

_Noble Comrades of the Trans-European Commonwealth!_

_Today, we have proven that your Supreme Lawgiver is not invincible._

_Today, he was defeated by a group of warriors who fought only for the liberty of others!_

_Do not starve while your oppressors continue to feast!_

_Do not toil while your oppressors continue to sit idle!_

_Do not suffer while your oppressors continue to rejoice!_

_Rise up and join the fight for freedom!_

I look to the horizon and see that two of the British attack squadrons have taken their positions to escort the transports back over the Britannic Channel. One squadron, however, remains for the final part of the mission. I speak into my microphone for the last time.

"Raptors, this is Mockingjay."

_"Mockingjay, Raptor 1, Go ahead."_

"Raptor 1, the Arks are clear."

_"Roger, Mockingjay, lining up for our attack run now…"_

Back over the prison camp, the last squadron forms a line in the sky and streaks toward their target. They arm their weapons, and at precisely the right moment, release a hail of firebombs over the entire complex. In less than ten seconds, the barracks, the factory, and the body of Rikard Ohm are all turned to ash.


	53. In Shadow's Light Chapter 25

As the sun rises over the island, the British squadrons streak through the London skies, spinning and rolling their hovercraft in celebration of victory. Crowds form below in the cobblestone streets and look up in amazement at the marvelous display of acrobatics. The Brits manning the air defense batteries around the city begin to scream and chant in triumph and soon are joined by the thousands of bewildered civilians who know nothing of what has transpired on the continent…_yet_. All they know is that their nation has taken to the skies once again, and proudly flies free over their sovereign land.

The four transports make a slow, deliberate approach to a large pad at the edge of the river near the Tower. No sooner has their landing gear touched the ground, when the elevators engage, lowering their entire hulls into the tunnels below. When we reach the hangar, the ramps drop and I am met by a huge mass of people screaming in utter exultation. The bewildered UDP prisoners slowly stumble down the ramps into the waiting arms of their new allies. Gifts of food and drink are liberally passed out among the newly freed souls and British doctors and nurses run forward to care for the sick and wounded. I jump above the heads of the crowd and see two British medics carrying Hatchet on a stretcher. Ratchet walks beside her, holding her still unconscious hand in his.

"Ratchet!" I scream over and over again, but he cannot hear me over the celebration and soon disappears with the medic team into a hallway. Before I can turn back around, I feel two massive arms wrap around me and lift me off my feet. I look down and see Angus' face, his white teeth glittering in his grin from ear to ear.

"Ares! _You crazy bastard_, you did it! You actually did it!"

"Please, Angus, put me down. I can't breathe." He laughs and lowers me back to the ground. When I finally catch my breath, he slaps a firm hand on my back.

"The Techies are in utter chaos right now," he says leading me through the crowd back toward Tower Control. The raid took them by total surprise. They think they're being invaded! Grosfrere is mobilizing forces from Iberia all the way to the Baltic."

"Isn't that a bad thing?"

"No, you daft fool! Don't you see? He's wet his pants like a wee little girl and is running scared. You've shown all of them just what the hell we can do and the Techies are on the defensive. For the first time in two centuries, we're calling this fight."

"Sorry to be such a downer, Angus, but this war isn't over. We've not yet begun to fight."

"Dammit man," he says bringing us to a halt. "Look around you. You've given these people something they've never had in their entire lives: _hope! _All the fighting may not be over…but by George, we're gonna celebrate anyway." He starts leading me again.

I just smile as I walk at his side.

"Really, Angus, you can surely celebrate for the both of us. I have business I need to take care of, I've got a wounded soldier to check on, and then I have to call President Holmes back in the Capitol to give her my report…"

"Ah, I've already talked to her and told her that you whipped the Techies like a bunch of frightened pups. I also said that you'd call her tomorrow after you've had the chance to get some rest."

"Really?"

"Hell no, Laddie! We're gonna get so pissed tonight that we'll wake up face down in the gutter tomorrow morning! I've already told Mrs. Marbury down at _The Three Foxes_ to open a bottle of Scotch she's been saving that's older than my grandfather. I'm sure as blazes not gonna drink it alone."

Later that afternoon, I lean out the window of Hatchet's room and strike a match against the wooden shutters. As it lights, I place the flame at the end of my cigar and puff till it comes alive. I look back to Hatchet, still lying asleep in her bed, and blow a cloud of smoke right towards her. As the vapors dance under her nose, a smile creeps across her face and her eyes first flutter, then slowly open.

"Well, good morning, Sergeant…or should I say good afternoon. Doc said he'd kill me if I tried that, but I knew it would work on you." She pushes herself up as she sees the cigar.

"Where did you get that?" she asks hungrily, savoring the aroma.

"Brought them with us. _District 11 Special Reserve._ I was going to save them for the end of the war, but figured that we could burn one now considering the circumstances. Want a puff?"

"Oh Lord, _do I_." she says with a smile as she brushes her hair out of her face. I laugh as I bend down and hand her the stogie. She places it in her mouth, closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply. After holding the smoke in her mouth for a few satisfying seconds, she blows it back out into the air. "_That is absolutely fantastic_," she says handing it back to me.

"I only keep the best and believe me, these aren't easy to get," I say as I lean out the window again and continue to smoke. "Just promise you won't tell Doc or Ratchet."

"Your secret's safe with me, Sir. Hey, speaking of those clowns, where are they?"

"Asleep. They refused to leave your side at first, but I ordered them to go and get some rest. Ratchet only agreed when I promised that I would wake him up the second you regained consciousness….but don't worry, I'll let you have your peace for a little while longer."

"Thanks…" Suddenly, Hatchet remembers the events in the factory and gets a serious look on her face. "What happened to Ohm?" I walk back over to her bedside and place his Reevox collar on her nightstand.

"You can go ahead and keep that. I still have one back home." The serious look on her face turns to relief until she finally looks down at herself and realizes she is only dressed in a simple white linen nightgown.

"Sir…_what am I wearing_?" she asks nervously trailing off.

"Courtesy of Mrs. Marbury, Doc said that it would be better considering the wound in your leg."

"And how did I get dressed in it?"

"Mrs. Marbury again…Doc assisted, of course, considering that the only thing holding your thigh together right now is a couple of stitches and a lot of good luck. He_ is_ a medical professional after all."

Hatchet's eyes close in embarrassment and she collapses back down onto her pillow.

"Great," she says blowing an errant strand of blonde out of her face. "That means half the team has now seen me naked."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better. I'm married and Tiller doesn't seem like the jealous type."

"Not really…"

"No offense, but after years of watching reruns of your mother, I would figure that it wouldn't bother you that much."

"Believe it or not, I'm a little bit more modest than she is." Her eyes shoot open again as she remembers something else that happened in the factory. She bolts up and stares at me in terror.

"Easy Sergeant! Remember, your wound. I don't want you to bleed out now."

"Sir, what did you say to Ratchet about what I asked you to tell him?" Despite my best efforts, I get a bit of a bemused look on my face.

"Don't worry. I didn't tell him a damn thing."

"Good," she says relaxing a little bit.

"You know, it's really none of my damn business…but I still have to say it. _It's ok to be in love, Olivia_." She just sighs and rolls over to face the wall.

"Not when your mother in Johanna Mason…"

"But, isn't she married to your father?" I say confused. Hatchet rolls back over and stares at me again.

"Yes, but only because she's terrified of being alone…and she wanted a child. As she puts it, she's _'fond of'_ my father, but definitely not in love with him."

"And he knows this?"

"As I learned growing up, love doesn't have to be a two-way street." Hatchet pauses. I don't know why she's chosen to open up to me, but I don't want her to stop. She needs to say this to somebody. "My mother raised me to be a fighter: _kill first, ask questions later_. President Snow…" Suddenly, she stops mid-sentence as if she's afraid of offending me.

"No, you can go ahead and say it," I say calmly reassuring her.

"President Snow took away everyone she ever loved…now, I'm the only real attachment she has left.

I love my mother, but I couldn't live like that anymore: treated like some kind of security blanket. That's why I joined the Defense Forces…I had to get away from her and live my own life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Olivia, I do." The conversation pauses for a few awkward seconds. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Might as well, Sir. Everything else we've talked about has been."

"Why Ratchet? I mean I thought you_ hated_ him?" Hatchet just laughs.

"You really don't know women, do you, Sir?" I'm somewhat stung by this last comment but keep it to myself.

"I guess not…"

"Everyone in my life…including myself…has always been this jigsaw puzzle of emotional baggage that it takes a shovel to dig to the bottom to, but with Clint, what you see is what you get. Sometimes, he's a fool. Others, he's a genius…but no matter what, he's always himself and..."

"You love that…"

"Exactly."

"Again, not really my business…but don't you think he deserves to know that?" Hatchet sighs again.

"Yeah…he does."

Suddenly, the strangest sound I have ever heard comes wafting in from the open window.

"What is that?" Hatchet asks confused.

"It sounds like music," I say looking down to the street. Dozens of people below are running toward the Tower.

"Music? It sounds like someone trying to inflate a cat with a set of bellows."

"Stay here and rest," I say running toward the door.

"Sir Wait!" Hatchet says.

"What?"

"If you're leaving, can I finish that cigar?" With a grin, I hand it to her before dashing out to the street.

I fall in next to a British woman and shout to her over the commotion.

"What is that noise?"

"Bagpipes!" she says excitedly.

"Bag what?"

"Bagpipes! It's the highlanders! They're coming down from the mountains by the thousands!"

We reach the Tower and I push through the crowd. I find Angus staring down the main road to the north at an approaching sea of wool, leather, and plaid: thousands of men and women carrying the strangest mix of weapons known to man: everything from modern assault weapons, to ancient wooden rifles, all the way down to spears and shields. They are led by a man riding the largest horse that I have ever seen. Standing next to it, I would barely come up to this animal's shoulder.

"Well, there you are, Ares!" Angus says delighted. "I was about to send for you so you could meet our guests."

"Angus," I say leaning over to him. "Why are they all wearing plaid dresses?"

"_They're kilts_…not dresses, Laddie. And they would kill you where you stood if you ever said that to their faces. A highlander can split a man in two lengthwise without batting an eyelash."

"Thanks for the head's up…" I say nervously trailing off.

The leader of the highlanders stops his horse in front of us and dismounts to the ground. If Angus is considered tall, this man is a giant. He towers over us and I have to bend my neck to look him in the face. The only weapon he carries is a gigantic broadsword strapped to the back of his leather armor. It is easily as long as I am tall. His matted blonde hair dangles below his shoulders and is tied with strips of plaid wool that match the pattern on his kilt. He also sports a fierce blonde beard that is braided into knots.

"_Britannia Gu Brath_," the giant says raising his right hand in a gesture of friendship.

"_Britannia Gu Brath_," Angus responds.

"So, I hear that there's gonna be a war…" the giant says. His accent is so thick that I can barely understand him.

"There's been a war for two centuries," Angus responds.

"Aye, but now I understand you're actually gonna fight it…"

"You've heard right," Angus says not giving an inch to the giant's imposing presence.

"Well, we highlanders _love_ a good fight."

_"Then welcome to the war."_


	54. In Shadow's Light Chapter 26

_"Angus wasn't kidding about that scotch,"_ I say trying to block out the pain in my throbbing head. I found out about halfway through the bottle at _The Three Foxes _last night that the name of the giant highlander was Seamus the Bruce, _Chief of the Highlander Clan and Heir to the Throne of Alba_. Though I'm not really sure what any of that actually means, I did learn that it is very unwise to engage in a drinking contest with people who weigh almost twice as much as you do.

Now, as I sit hung over and barely coherent in Tower Control with Angus, Seamus, and a few other high ranking Brits, I am vaguely aware that Angus is thanking President Holmes up on the screen for sending Britannia such capable professionals as my team. Amelia and Gale sit on either side of her at the table back in Central Briefing.

"Well, I believe most of the thanks lies with General Snow and his operators, doesn't it General?" President Holmes says expecting a response from me. I just sit and hold my head in my hands, doing my best to stay upright and not vomit on the floor.

"_Doesn't it General!_" President Holmes repeats with much more emphasis. Amelia sighs and Gale rubs his eyes with his hands.

"Laddie…" Angus whispers nudging me a bit with his elbow.

"What…" I say snapping back to a slightly higher stage of consciousness.

"I believe she's talking to you…." I awkwardly look up to the screen and see President Holmes glaring down at me.

"Ah yes….my team is very skilled," I say mumbling a bit. "But I could not have accomplished anything," I say pointing towards Angus, "if it was not for the stalwart and steadfast support of Panem's newest and closest ally, the Sovereign Island of Britannia…."

Angus can no longer hold back his laughter.

"Very…diplomatic of you there, Ares," he says leaning back in his chair.

"Are all people from Panem as much a lightweight as you, General?" Seamus asks me in his thick highland accent. "I mean really, you barely had a bottle and a half."

"A bottle and a half!" President Holmes screams across the world at me. I turn bright red with embarrassment.

"Ah, Madame President," Angus says turning to her. "Don't be too hard on your boyo here. I told him that if he didn't match me and Chief Seamus here drink for drink that it would be considered an insult to all Britannia. General Snow was just doing his best to maintain good relations between our nations." President Holmes looks like she doesn't believe that for one second, but a grin creeps across her face when she realizes that my behavior has done much more to cement relations between the UDP and Britannia than harm it.

"Alright then, War Chief McFadden, as long as General Snow was doing it for the purpose of diplomacy…but please, in the future can you ensure that he is at least coherent for these briefings?"

"Aye, Ma'am," Angus says still laughing a bit. "We'll make a real drinker out of him yet."

"Lord, I hope not," I say trying to lighten the mood a bit. Everyone on both sides of the Atlantic laughs except for Amelia. I look up to her annoyed face up on the screen. She slowly shakes her head back and forth, obviously disapproving of me drinking myself into oblivion. For some reason, when she stares at me I turn redder than ever.

"Last night's celebratory shenanigans aside, General," President Holmes says returning to business, "can you give me a brief of your latest report?"

"Yes Ma'am," I say leaning forward over a stack of files on the table in front of me. "Despite the injury sustained by Sergeant Sawbleyde and the targeted loss of the prototype stealth hovercraft, the operation was a resounding success. We were able to rescue 1,517 of the original 1,892 hostages taken during the initial attack by the TEC. We are working with both British and UDP authorities to find a way to transport them back to Panem as soon as possible.

According to the Mayors of the Districts, the 375 hostages that did not survive the ordeal were lost to either malnutrition, work-related accidents, or experimental selection."

"And are you absolutely sure that the experiments were related to bio-chemical warfare research?" Gale asks me in a tone that is somewhere between skepticism and nervousness.

"Yes, Mr. Hawthorne," I say glaring straight back at his image on the screen. "I'm afraid I was witness to the tragic aftermath of one of those tests myself when I dispatched Mr. Ohm in his laboratory. The details of that exchange are listed in my written report that I forwarded to you last night, Ma'am."

"Yes, I have it here in front of me," President Holmes replies looking down at her notes. "It appears that we may be facing a nightmare scenario here…" she says with the utmost seriousness.

"Yes, Madam President," I reply to her. "I'm afraid that we have to assume that despite the destruction of the factory, the TECs may now have access to Shiver."

"And what about a possible delivery system?" she asks both to me and Gale sitting next to her.

"I know that General Snow reported that he and Sergeant Sawbleyde witnessed the construction of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles in the factory," Gale says, "but I find this scenario very hard to believe. Just looking at the sheer physics involved in constructing a missile that can reach orbital velocity now with the degradation of the troposphere and stratosphere, it is extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible. The thrust to weight ratio of any booster rocket would have to be enormous. I know for a fact that Mr. Ohm had been working on that problem since before his transformation into an Avox without any success. Even the General's esteemed grandfather understood that the age of orbital warfare ended centuries ago." My fists under the briefing table ball up in anger. "In my professional opinion, the most likely target for any kind of weapons payload and missile delivery system that the TECs have developed would be Britannia, both due to the island's proximity to the probably launch sites and long history of conflict with the Trans-European Commonwealth."

"They can launch those damn missiles at us if they want to," Angus says angrily. "They've been trying hit us since the very beginning, but in two-hundred years, not a single Techie rocket or missile has hit a target on the island. Our ballistic defense shield will track and destroy those things before they even get within one hundred miles of our shores."

I slam my fists on the table in front of me, getting everybody's attention.

"With all due respect to Mr. Hawthorne's professional opinion, we cannot just assume that Ohm has not figured out a solution to the atmospheric question. According to the debriefs we've conducted with the prisoners, fourteen completed missiles were shipped from the factory before it was destroyed. That means there are_ fourteen _potential catastrophic killers on the loose somewhere on the European continent that we must find and destroy before it is too late."

"You concerns are noted, General Snow," President Holmes says trying to calm me down. "Captain Flagg," she says turning to Amelia. "I believe that your intelligence team is already working on that issue?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Amelia says, "unfortunately our ability to gather reliable intelligence in the TEC is still extremely limited. We just haven't been able to independently confirm where those missiles could be."

"What about your tunnel into the mainframe?" I ask hopefully.

"Everything relating to the missiles, including potential launch sites or targets is completely encrypted. There's no way that I can actively attempt to hack into that area of the database without tipping them off that we're inside. Losing that link could be disastrous."

"I ask that you give us time, Ares," President Holmes says trying to reassure me. "We'll find them."

"Hopefully, before they find us." I mutter without looking up at her.

"Just one more thing, General…" Driva says beginning to trail off.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"You said in your report that you and Ohm engaged in a conversation before you dispatched him, but you fail to mention at all what that conversation was. I hope that there were no other matters of national security that you didn't feel the need to share."

"No, Madame President," I say firmly. "Everything relevant was in my report. The words that Ohm and I exchanged were concerned more with a few _personal _epiphanies." I stare directly at Gale as I speak. He notices immediately and I can see he is worried I have found out the secret of his collaboration.

"Very well," President Holmes says, obviously still not completely reassured. "I trust in your judgment, General Snow. Just be sure that you don't let your 'personal epiphanies' interfere with your mission." I look over to Amelia who has an extremely concerned look on her face, but I discreetly nod letting her know she shouldn't be worried.

"Ma'am, I would never dream of it."

"Alright then, I think I've heard enough. Please, wish the rest of your team my sincerest congratulations and Sergeant Sawbleyde a speedy recovery. Rest now, but soon I'll need you all your best again."

"Yes, Ma'am, and I wouldn't worry about Sergeant Sawbleyde too much. She's already back to her old self…._If what I heard this morning through the wall of my room is any indication…" _I think silently to myself. "I also promised that I would tell you that she is still doing the job you gave to her."

"Glad to hear it," President Holmes says before sitting up from the table in Central Briefing and excusing herself. Gale is about to join her, but I speak to him directly before the transmission is terminated.

"Mr. Hawthorne," I say nonchalantly. "Would you mind joining me on a private transmission now? I have a few things that I'd like to discuss with you." Gale looks at me nervously but does his best to cover up his discomfort.

"No, it won't be a problem." He turns to Amelia. "Captain Flagg, do you mind patching this link through to the secure terminal in my office?" Amelia looks at me concerned, but another nod from me and she reluctantly accepts.

"It won't be a problem, Sir," she says artificially upbeat. "Just give me a few minutes."

"I'll be with you in a second," he says disappearing off camera.

"Angus, do you mind if I use your office terminal?" I ask.

"No, Laddie," he says. "Maggie, patch this through upstairs."

"Right away, Sir." Angus turns back to me.

"What's this about? I get the feeling you won't exactly be making small talk."

"Let's just call it _unfinished business _and leave it at that."

A few minutes later, I sit one on one with Gale. We stare through the screens at each other until finally he breaks the silence.

"What's this about, Snow?"

"Just tell me why you did it, Gale?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…" his face immediately betrays him.

"The hell you don't," I say back angrily. "You know that Ohm revealed everything to me before I put an extra hole in his face."

"If you're gonna turn me in, just do it. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't….but if you do, I won't turn you in."

"What?" he asks confused.

"This has nothing to do with the authorities. It is between _you and me_, Hawthorne." He leans back in his chair and looks down at my chest.

"Isn't it obvious?" I realize he's staring at the Mockingjay pin. "I mean, you seem to love her as much as I do."

"There's a few gaps in that sequence of logic, Gale. How exactly does loving Katniss lead to you conspiring with a terrorist to murder innocent people?"

"They didn't seem innocent to me at the time…."

"What about my wife? Did you know he was going to take her as well?" I say getting angrier.

"No! I thought it would just be the Sixteen! I didn't know he had something special planned for you."

"You still haven't answered my question yet, Gale." Suddenly, tears begin to fall from his eyes.

"I….I…."

"_Why did you do it?_ Answer me, dammit!"

"Because I killed her sister! The one person she cared about more than anybody else on the planet and I killed her!"

"Prim?" I say in quiet confusion. "This is about Prim?"

"Two things kept the fire that I loved so much about Katniss alive. The first was the desire to protect Prim, and the second was the desire to get revenge on Snow. She never got to take that revenge because of my foolish mistake trusting Coin."

"So, you thought that if you helped Ohm get his so-called revenge…"

"Then I would be fighting for the Katniss I lost so many years ago."

He stares at me defiantly, expecting some sort of angry rant or accusation from me, but none comes. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I manage a response.

"Alright, listen closely, Hawthorne. You're right, I do love Katniss, but I've learned that she isn't the same person she was two decades ago. Your Katniss is _dead_. She died right there in front of the Presidential Mansion when those parachutes went off." I can tell this last statement wounds him deeply. "The Katniss I care about: the one who gave me this pin, doesn't need revenge anymore. What she needs is _peace_. Killing people ain't gonna do a _damn_ thing to help her.

So, since you obviously didn't know about her new self, I'll give you one free pass. I hereby absolve you of all your crimes. You're in the clear." He seems confused by my benevolence.

"Why would you do that? Just ignore everything I did."

"_I'm not._ I just have no urge to continue this pointless cycle of revenge. Ohm's death was justice enough for me. However, let me make one thing absolutely clear to you: If you _ever_ even think about harming me or my family again….the last thing you ever see will be me putting the gun to your head."


	55. In Shadow's Light Chapter 27

Days pass and routine sets in. Hatchet begins to make a remarkable recovery and even begins hobbling around crutches with the help of Ratchet and Doc. Angus and I begin to create a training plan to turn the mass of Britannic guards and highland warriors into a cohesive military. Finally, with the help of Amelia back in Panem, I pull off something that I have been looking forward to for weeks. Angus has Maggie give me a private video terminal that I set up in my room back in the _The Three Foxes_. At the appointed hour, I make the call across the globe.

The static transforms into Lizzy and Octavian, sitting in front of an open window in the Odair family cottage by the sea. As she bounces our son on her knee, the brilliant morning sun dancing off the waves behind her creates the effect of an angelic halo around her head. I have not seen their faces since I put them on the train almost two months ago, and I gasp at how much Octavian has grown. His beautiful sea-green eyes look straight at me and his reddish brown hair has grown long and wild. I'm so overcome by the emotions of finally seeing them that I can only get out one phrase.

"_Hey, you…_" I say choking up a little bit.

"Hey," Lizzy says back to me, her eyes tearing up as well. "Look, it's daddy!" she says rocking Octavian, trying to get him to look at the screen. He just buries his head in her chest. "Sorry, he's just a little cranky from being up this early…"

"It's ok," I say touching my hand to my screen. Lizzy touches her screen as well and we pretend for a brief moment that we can hold each other across the miles.

"The news won't stop talking about how you rescued the hostages," Lizzy says proudly. "Glad to see that you're keeping busy." We both laugh a little.

"It was a team effort," I say with a grin. "The British are a fantastic people. Different, but somehow still the same as us. If there's one thing good that will come out of this war, it's that our two nations will come together in friendship…"

"That's good…" Lizzy says before taking a long pause. "The news also said that you got him…is it true?" she asks hopefully.

I touch her face on the screen again, somehow praying for the miracle that I could feel the warmth of her skin at this moment.

"He's gone, Baby. We will never have to worry about Rikard Ohm again."

"Are you sure this time?" She says fighting back terror in her voice.

"_Absolutely sure_," I say with an iron conviction that instantly causes her tension to disappear.

"Wonderful," she says looking down to Octavian who is still not cooperating with her. He writhes and fidgets trying to turn away from the screen. "Do you hear that? Daddy is making it safe for us," she says trying to look him in the face, but he continues to turn away. "I don't know what the problem is. He's not usually this bad…"

"It's ok, I'm just happy to see him," I say softly with a smile. "How are you little guy?" I say trying to get his attention. "You're getting so big!" He turns toward my voice and flashes a look at me that's filled with total apathy and confusion. It's as if he's being forced to talk to a total stranger.

Octavian turns back toward Lizzy and buries his head in her chest again.

"_Mama_," he says clear as day. My jaw drops as I hear his beautiful voice.

"He's talking now?" I say still in shock.

"Yeah," Lizzy says nodding her head. "For about a week now…"

"That's amazing," I say secretly devastated that I was not present for my son's first words.

"Can you say something for daddy?" Lizzy says trying to get Octavian to cooperate. "C'mon say something for daddy." Octavian remains silent, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his tiny hands. "Aw, c'mon say something for daddy. How about '_dada_.' Can you say '_dada_?" Octavian just continues to be fussy.

"It's ok," I say trying to reassure her. "I know he's tired."

Suddenly, in the doorway behind them, the silhouette of Finnick appears carrying a fishing net on his back. He drops it down on the floor and the noise gets Octavian's attention. As soon as he sees Finnick, Octavian reaches out to him with his stubby arms and shouts:

"_Dada_!"

I feel as if someone stabbed me through the heart with a spear. I drop down in my seat, bury my face in my hands, and start to sob uncontrollably as I realize a horrible truth:

_"My son doesn't know me anymore…"_

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Lizzy says trying to calm me down.

"No, it's fine," I say trying to wipe the tears out of my eyes. "I understand," I say trying to make her feel better.

"Finnick, come and take him please," Lizzy says desperately. He dashes over and Octavian practically climbs into his arms. Finnick looks at me with mix of sympathy and horrible guilt.

"How are you doing, Ares?" He asks very awkwardly.

"Good, Finnick," I say as tears continue to roll down my face. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for taking such good care of my family."

"No," he says looking back through the screen at me. "Thank you for what you're doing over there. I saw the report on the raid. That was incredible."

"It's my job," I say not knowing what else to.

"You stay safe and come home soon. They'll be here when you get back."

"You got it," I say not entirely believing him now.

"I'm gonna take him outside now," he says turning down to Lizzy. "Give you two a chance to talk."

"Ok…" Lizzy says still crying and shaking her head. Finnick raises Octavian's little hand and makes him gently wave goodbye to me.

"Say goodbye to your daddy, Little Man." Octavian obeys but still has no emotion in his face.

"Bye, Little Man," I say waving back. "I love you so much." Then Finnick turns away and my son disappears.

"I'm so sorry," Lizzy says now bawling uncontrollably.

"It's ok!" I say as my tears now return.

"_It's just so hard, Ares!_ It's so hard for you to be gone!"

"I know, I know…"

"_No you don't!_" Lizzy says losing control. "Do you know what it's like to tuck your son into bed every night not sure where his father is, or even if his father is dead or alive? To have to think about what it will be like to raise our child alone if the man you love more than anything else in the world is blown to pieces?"

I have no idea how to respond to her. Finally, just shaking my head back and forth, I whisper:

"_I love you_…and I'm sorry for what I am."

"No," Lizzy says back to me, regaining control of herself. "I wouldn't love you if you were somebody different. You're strong, courageous, loyal, and amazing!" Without thinking, I lean forward and press my lips against the screen. Lizzy leans forward on her side and does the same. For a few brief moments, we both imagine ourselves in each other's arms. I close my eyes and try to remember what this felt like on the platform at the train station, but no matter how hard I try, the same feeling of warmth and safety escapes me. Instead, all I feel is _lost._

After a sleepless night, I stumble into Tower Control along with Tiller and Doc. Ratchet follows closely behind trying to help Hatchet down the stairs on her crutches, but she seems to have no problems maneuvering at all.

"You seem to be doing a lot better, Lassie," Angus says with a smile as she hobbles up to the table and plops down in the chair next to me.

"Feel a lot better too. That bitter beer is amazing stuff."

"Aye, tis a great and ancient medicine," Angus says with a laugh. Ratchet walks up behind her and takes the crutches.

"Thanks, Babe. _Love you_," she quietly whispers to him with a smile. He grins back and walks around the other side of the table to join the other sergeants. I just turn to Hatchet and stare with a totally amazed look on my face. "We had a talk," she says bashfully. "_A good one…_"

"Good," I say nodding with approval. "_Very good_." We both start to chuckle.

"Sir," Maggie calls out from her work station to Angus. "We're receiving a broadcast on the main TEC announcement channel." He turns serious and orders her to put it up on the big screen.

The great seal of the Trans-European Commonwealth appears accompanied by dirge-like music. An announcer's voice is heard:

_"On this national day of mourning, we now take you live to the Man Among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere at the Germania Memorial Stadium…" _

The image cuts to Grosfrere, standing on a huge stage behind a massive podium with a television screen large enough to blot out the entire sky towering over his head. In front of him, dozens of rows of coffins have been arranged with surgical precision. Each one is draped with the TEC flag and adorned with a bouquet of white roses. The seats of the stadium are filled to capacity with mourners, each crying their eyes out in an amazing display of emotion. Again, I cannot tell whether it is purely fabricated, or these poor brain-washed people really are this distraught.

"My fellow citizens," Grosfrere begins. His voice booms throughout the arena. "Our enemy is vicious and cruel." On the screen behind him, images of destroyed homes and scorched earth begin to play. Black bodies, contorted into horrible positions, lie unburied in the streets.

"_My God_," Hatchet says covering her face with her hands.

"Those _sick_ bastards," Tiller says slamming his fist down on the table. I remain silent, but also feel their disgust. I instantly recognize the images on the screen as the small village we encountered next to the factory complex.

"Less than a week ago," Grosfrere continues, "the imperialist UDP war criminals launched an unprovoked attack on Francia, completely destroying a peaceful valley and factory complex full of loyal TEC citizens working hard to continue our valiant war effort against the forces of evil. As you can see by the bodies of the fallen in front of you, there were no survivors."

"The TECs destroyed a whole freaking valley and then blame us! Why?" Ratchet says angrily.

"Because," I say staring down at the table, "Those people in that village saw Grosfrere's defeat. Alive, they were a liability to him, but now as corpses, they're martyrs to his cause. He doesn't care about innocent people, and he'll kill anybody who's a threat to him…"

"The imperialists felt that by striking at Francia, my home, that I would back down in fear," Grosfrere speaks into his microphone with the silver tongue of a serpent, "but I assure all of you, that my will has never been stronger!" The stadium erupts in wild cheers and shouts of adoration. "As we say goodbye to our brave and honored fallen that lie here before us, I hereby announce that our response will be decisive and absolute."

"What is he talking about?" Doc says nervously.

"I don't know, but I don't like it…" I respond trailing off.

"The Trans-European Commonwealth is a peaceful nation," Grosfrere continues. "I say to the thousands here, and the millions watching this broadcast around the TEC, we abhor resorting to violence, but sometimes the crimes of others are so great that justice _demands_ it. I now decree as Supreme Lawgiver, that the United Districts of Panem, a chaotic and decadent democracy where nepotism and oligarchy result in this kind of perversion," he says pointing toward the field of coffins, "WILL BE DESTROYED!" The stadium erupts again in cheers. All of us in Tower Control jump to our feet in shock and horror. "Thanks to the sacrifice of our loyal comrade, Rikard Ohm, who also gave his life for the TEC in this senseless attack, we are now in possession of Panem's most sinister weapon! In our attempt to bring order and justice to this world, may all our enemies drown under toxic blue clouds of their own disgusting creation!" Grosfrere raises his hands over his head in the victory symbol. "UNUS EUROPA!"

The tens of thousands of spectators leap to their feet, and also make the sign of victory over their heads. They shout back in one massive cry, "SUB UNUS RECTOR!" The booming choral tones of the TEC national anthem begin to play through the speakers of the stadium. Everyone begins singing in one, united voice. Grosfrere keeps his hands in the symbol of victory and stares up into the sky.

Suddenly, a new image appears on the screen behind him. On an unknown TEC military base, fourteen massive steel doors open in the ground, revealing their deadly payload. The camera is sure to zoom in close so that everyone can see the missiles, ready for flight and pointed for the sky.

_"No…this isn't real! This can't be happening,"_ I think as my mind races through a thousand thoughts of Panem. Lizzy, Octavian, Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, Driva, Amelia, all my loved ones still back at home and now threatened with annihilation.

As the TEC anthem reaches the key crescendo, jets of flame erupt from the ground and the missiles launch from the silos and toward orbit. The TEC cameras track their flight on the massive stadium screen towards the sky as the silhouette of Grosfrere stands straight and tall for his entire nation to see. Booming alarms begin echoing through Tower Control.

"Our radar independently confirms the launch," Maggie says staring at her screen. "Fourteen separate missiles each headed on a different orbital trajectory."

"Fourteen missiles?" Hatchet says.

"Thirteen Districts and the Capitol," I say in horror. "They're gonna blanket the entire UDP under a cloud of Shiver."

"And then march right in to take over unopposed when the gas dissipates," Tiller says staring at the screen in disbelief.

"Our estimates put impact in Panem in approximately eighteen minutes," Maggie shouts.

"Does our defense shield have a shot at them?" Angus says desperately.

"Negative," Maggie says. "Their trajectories are too steep and the missiles are already leaving the atmosphere. There's nothing we can do…"

I collapse back in my chair as a single thought slams its way into my consciousness.

_"Our world is about to end."_

END OF BOOK TWO


	56. Freedom's Call Chapter 1

"Our estimates put impact in Panem in approximately eighteen minutes," Maggie shouts.

"Does our defense shield have a shot at them?" Angus says desperately.

"Negative," Maggie says. "Their trajectories are too steep and the missiles are already leaving the atmosphere. There's nothing we can do…"

I collapse back in my chair as a single thought slams its way into my consciousness.

_"Our world is about to end."_

My mind continues to race, trying to come up with something we can do to stop those missiles. Then, it hits me. There's nothing that _we_ can do.

"Maggie!" I scream bolting over to her work station. "Get me Central Briefing at the UDP Defense Ministry."

"It will take a few minutes," Maggie says beginning to punch in the keystrokes.

"We don't have a few minutes!" I say raising my voice. I look back up to the TEC broadcast on the main screen. The view has switched from the stadium to a large map of the Atlantic. The trajectory of the missiles is being projected for the entire TEC to see. Two announcers triumphantly talk about what incredible benefits the destruction of Panem will mean for the glory of Europe. They even predict that Britannia will fall in just a few months without the help of its ally.

"I've got Captain Flagg in Central Briefing, Sir," Maggie shouts out.

"Put her on the screen!" The main screen cuts in half. On the right side is the TEC broadcast still predicting absolute victory. Amelia's terrified face appears on the left side.

"Amelia!" I shout as I see her.

"I know, Sir," she screams back. "We were monitoring the TEC broadcast as well. I've already put out the alert, but it will take at least half an hour before people start getting to shelters"

"By that time, the entire UDP will be a massive blue toxic cloud."

"Is there anything you can do in Britannia to save us?" she asks frantically.

"No, there's nothing we can do over here, Amelia. It's up to you."

"WHAT CAN WE DO?" she screams out. "When those missiles hit, everybody's going to die." I can see the panic building inside her. She starts looking around to everyone else in Central Briefing, but no one seems to have any other ideas either.

"Amelia," I say trying to get her focused, but she still doesn't look at me. "Amelia," still nothing. "CAPTAIN FLAGG!" I shout out loud enough so that everyone in both control centers looks at me.

"Yes Sir," she says fighting back tears.

"Do you still have the tunnel link into the TEC mainframe? We can't access it from over here. Only you can through the UDP network."

"Yes Sir. We still have it."

"Good, now I need you try to access the missiles' controls and activate their self-destruct systems."

"Sir, I can't…."

"Yes you can, Amelia…"

"Sir, the missile control systems are encrypted with the rest of the missile database. I can't access them…"

"YES YOU CAN!" I shout at the top of my lungs again. "Amelia, I don't want to hear that you can't. You once told me that you wanted to face a situation where your decisions were life and death. Well, _this is it_. If you don't bring those missiles down, than millions of innocent people are going to _die_."

"Eleven minutes till missile impact," Maggie says from her station.

"Did you hear that? Eleven minutes. Go Amelia!" She nods furiously and begins hammering away at the keyboard in front of her. The minutes brutally tick past one by one as Amelia hacks through line after line of TEC code trying to gain access.

"Six minutes till missile impact! The vehicles are approaching reentry," Maggie says with more urgency in her voice. I look over to the TEC broadcast. The missile position indicators are almost over Greenland.

"I'm in!" Amelia shouts out excitedly. She scans down the missile database searching for the self-destruct codes. "No…no…._no_!" she screams in terror.

"What is it?" I say beginning to panic a little myself.

"The codes aren't here! They're in another database nested inside this one and it's a completely different encryption sequence."

"C'mon Amelia. Keep going! You can do it!" She starts furiously punching keys again. Beads of sweat form on her brow as she fights against an elusive digital enemy that threatens to destroy everything that we love.

Flashes of my family slice through my consciousness. My nightmare of Lizzy and Octavian drowning in Shiver while I watch completely helpless to do anything about it burns like a flaming ember behind my eyes. I see Katniss and Peeta, trying to shield Prim and Haymitch futilely underneath their bodies while their once happy home turns into a gas chamber. Their faces begin to contort and melt in the toxic mist as their lives end in gruesome pain…

"Four minutes to impact!" Maggie shouts, mercifully cutting into my horrible visions. "The missiles have re-entered the atmosphere and are accelerating toward their targets.

"_Amelia_!" I say trying to keep her focused. She slams her hands down on her keyboard and tears begin rolling down her cheeks.

"It's no use! This algorithm is too complex. It would take me days to crack it!"

"Then there's got to be something else! Something else you can do!" My voice begins to tremble with fear as well.

"There's nothing…." Amelia says staring back at her computer screen. "There nothing we can do…." She pauses for a second. Her eyes grow wide and she wipes away her tears. "Except….the guidance system!" She starts furiously pounding at keys again.

"What about the guidance system!" I yell back at her.

"The flight logarithms, Sir," she says not taking her eyes off of the screen. "The mathematical formulas that guide the missiles onto their targets were only encrypted by the original algorithm." I begin to smile as I realize she's figured it out.

"C'mon, Amelia, you know me better than that. _English please_."

"Two minutes till impact!" Maggie says.

"I can change the missiles flight paths, Sir," Amelia says with a giant smile, "and then do this!" she slams her finger into her keyboard before looking over the to the live TEC broadcast on the screen in Central Briefing. I do the same in Tower Control.

Suddenly, the missiles flight paths become erratic. Some fly straight north toward Greenland, while others plummet southward into open ocean. In quick succession, the missile icons disappear as the signals are lost.

"You did it, Flagg!" Maggie shouts ecstatically. "The rapid course corrections were too much and the G-Forces ripped the missiles apart! Our radar shows the wreckage of all fourteen plunging harmlessly into the ocean." Both Central Briefing and Tower Control erupt in wild cheers. Amelia collapses back into her chair and finally lets herself breathe.

"Amelia, you are _amazing_." I say smiling straight at her.

"Thank you, Sir," she says fighting back tears of joy and relief.

The TEC announcers don't know what to make of the loss of the missiles.

_"We seem to be having some technical difficulties in tracking the missiles' flight paths…we now take you back to the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere in Germania Memorial Stadium…"_

The broadcast cuts back to a confused and angry Grosfrere still standing on the stage in front of his massive live audience. He looks out to see them staring back at him with the same look that an audience gives a magician who has botched a trick…._the illusion of his invincibility has been shattered on live television. _I sense a major opportunity.

"Amelia!"

"Yes Sir," she says still a little giddy from the destruction of the missiles. "Quick, before the TECs close the tunnel: patch my image through to the TEC broadcast system. I want to be on that screen in Germania stadium."

"What?" she says confused.

"Can you do it?" I say trying to get her focused again.

"Yes Sir," she says punching at her keys again.

"I need a camera!" I shout out to Tower Control.

"There Sir," Maggie says pointing to a video terminal at the work station next to her. "I'll patch you in there."

"Got it, Sir," Amelia shouts triumphantly. "You're live in the TEC in three…two…."

Suddenly, live on the TEC broadcast, my face appears fifteen stories tall directly behind the Man among Men. He turns around in shock and stares directly into my eyes.

"The TECs are fighting me, Sir!" Amelia shouts from Central Briefing. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to maintain the link."

"Just keep it as long as you can," I say trying to hold a calm, cool confidence in my words. I know that the entire enemy nation is watching me at this moment. "Noble People of the Trans-European Commonwealth," I say staring directly into the camera like it was the eyes of a whole country. "I am General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem. I am a proud servant of my country and proud ally of all the Britannic Tribes.

The reason that you did not see Grosfrere's weapons impact on Panem was that because of a brave and free woman who stood against the whims of an evil man, the missiles were destroyed before they even reached their targets. As we speak, their remains are falling harmlessly into the North Atlantic Ocean.

The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere guaranteed the destruction of Panem tonight. _He failed_! He failed because he is not omniscient, and not omnipotent. He is not a 'Man among Men.' No, he is merely a man: a weak pathetic man who maintains his grip on power by enslaving you under the threat of brute force.

The people of the TEC are intelligent. I know that somewhere, deep inside your trapped minds, you know that humans are not supposed to live as you are made to. People are not supposed to suffer under the yolk of a tyrant to satiate his lust for power and greed. You know that you must starve on rations while the leaders of the TEC feast on the fruits of your labor! You know that you are forced to suffer and toil while your overlords sit in comfort!

Behind his spy cameras, and his guns, and his threats of violence, Grosfrere is only human…._and he can be killed like anyone else_." I quickly reach down and rip the Mockingjay pin from my uniform. I hold it up to the camera, and let it burn into the psyche of the Trans-European Commonwealth like it did to the Revolutionary generation of Panem over a quarter century ago. "I am the Mockingjay, and I will fight for you…but in the end, _The Revolution is in your hands_."

At that moment, Amelia loses her fight with the TEC database, and the connection is terminated. The screen cuts to the seal of the TEC and the booming chorus of the their anthem begins to play.

"That's it, Sir," Amelia says a little drown-trodden. "The TECs closed the tunnel. We've lost our connection to their database. I'm sorry."

"Why?" I stare up at her on the screen with the biggest smile I've had in months. "We just started something that Grosfrere never dreamed would ever be possible!" I say turning around and gazing at everyone in Tower Control. Angus, Seamus, Maggie, Ratchet, Tiller, Doc, and Hatchet all look at me as if I've lost my mind…and maybe I have. "We sent out a call to the TEC tonight that won't be ignored."

"What are you talking about, Laddie?" Angus says looking back at me.

"No, I get it," Hatchet says pushing herself up to her feet. Ratchet leaps up and starts to run around the table with her crutches, but she holds up her hand to stop him. "Somewhere in the TEC, there is somebody who is tired of living in slavery. He or she will doubt themselves at first, just as they've been conditioned to. But eventually, they'll get the courage to talk about it with somebody they trust.

The movement will spread, slowly at first, but rapidly gaining more and more momentum as people take notice. Soon, Grosfrere's bombs and guns will only make the opposition more and more bold until…"

"You have a Revolution," Angus says finally understanding.

"Exactly," I whisper through a determined grin.

The barrage that the TECs submit Britannia to that night is the fiercest in the two centuries of the conflict, but the Brits fight it off with a determination and tenacity that is unheard of even for them. They understand that this is not a sign of the TEC's strength, but a sign of its weakness. Grosfrere is terrified because his people have finally heard Freedom's Call…


	57. Freedom's Call Chapter 2

A year passes. Britannia shared her secrets of developing an impenetrable missile defense shield with the UDP government in the Capitol, but luckily, Panem's newest strength has never been tested by the TECs. Grosfrere's ongoing propaganda states it is because the Trans-European Commonwealth has decided that launching further attacks would be counterproductive against bringing the population of the UDP into the peaceful fold of his followers, but everyone, including the TEC civilians, knows the truth: the TEC no longer has the manpower at its disposal to create another batch of ICBMs.

Pierre Grosfrere's aire of invincibility was destroyed the night of the failed attack on Panem. His people heard my message, and many of them chose to act. Parts of the TEC that were not occupied by large amounts of troops soon fell into chaos. Grosfrere had to switch his strategy from one of domination and intimidation to one of containment. Thousands of innocents have died in reprisal attacks from his counter-insurgency campaigns, but in the end, they have done nothing but fan the flames of rebellion. Tragically, his total stranglehold on the resources of the TEC has proven to be enough to maintain his government. However, the overwhelming sense both in the Capitol and London is that the TEC is now a house of cards just waiting for a strong enough breeze to blow it down.

President Holmes has established a regular traffic of ships and supplies from Panem's eastern shores to Britannia. Food, fuel, and ammunition arrives at British ports in ever increasing numbers, however the one thing that Angus keeps requesting the most has proven to be elusive: men and women from the UDP who are ready to fight.

I explain to Angus at our meetings that an army large enough to challenge the TEC does not come quickly, but he seems to be increasingly more and more impatient every day and our relationship is becoming strained as a result.

"If Holmes expects Britannia to fight this war for her, she is sadly mistaken. Does she think Britannia is an ally or a servant?" Angus asked me in Tower Control last week. It is a wound to my heart that is not easily healed.

To distract myself from the difficulties of diplomacy and the pain of not having held my wife or son for almost fifteen months, I have begun taking the fight to the shores of the TEC itself. The raids are more for morale than tactical gains. The TEC will never collapse or surrender because of them, but at least it shows our allies both in Britannia and the TEC that Panem is still willing to fight…

Norwegia is a large, mostly uninhabited peninsula across the North Sea from Britannia. The brutally cold and harsh landscape has forced the small population to live along a few, small ocean inlets in the southwest. Grosfrere and his predecessors have never been popular among the native fisherman and subsistence farmers, but Norwegia's easy access to the seas around Britannia has made it a popular garrison for the TEC's small navy of patrol boats that enforce the blockade along the eastern coast of Britannia. As a result, the Norwegians have been forced to endure horrible hardships at the hands of the TEC troops stationed along their harbors.

Two young Norwegian women walk along the rocky path leading past a TEC naval base. They wear thick leather cloaks to shield themselves from the bitter cold. Their platinum blonde hair sticking out from their fur-lined hoods hides their faces. One carries a wicker basket in the crook of her right arm.

In the inlet below, dozens of TEC patrol boats lie at anchor, watched over by two batteries of anti-aircraft cannons. The TECs in their blue armor lounge in the overcast sunlight. The war is a long way away for them. The Norwegians with their paltry numbers dare not rise up against Grosfrere's forces here, and the inlets lined with cannons and missiles scare away any chance of a British air attack.

The women approach the front gates of the base. A TEC in a guard tower lazily leans on his machine gun. Lunch is approaching and he sees the basket that the first woman is carrying. It is identical to the ones that Norwegian wives use to carry food from their homes to their husbands on the fishing boats that dock about a mile down the inlet from here. The TEC tower guard gestures down to two of his comrades that are on gate guard below. He knows that the smoked fish and salty rolls that the women are carrying will be infinitely preferable to the dehydrated ration packs that he normally has to choke down. The two TECs below nod in agreement and march over to the women.

The two terrified maidens stop and stare at the ground, afraid to look the soldiers in their black, faceless visors.

"What is your purpose and destination?" one of the TEC guards says to the woman with the basket.

"My husband will be coming in soon from his morning fishing trip," she says in a thick local accent. "He's expecting me with his food."

"Just take it already!" The guard in the tower shouts at him. "I'm getting hungry up here." The TEC soldier reaches over to steal the basket from the maiden, when fast as lightning, the second woman reaches out and grabs his wrist with an iron grip.

"What are you doing?" the TEC soldier shouts angrily, but before he can pull away the woman kicks her foot right into his chest and he collapses the ground. The second TEC tries to raise his rifle, but she has already pulled a throwing axe from behind her back and hammers it right into his face. Hatchet spins out of the leather cloak she was wearing, grabs the dead TEC's rifle, and dispatches the first TEC she kicked to the ground with a quick burst of rounds. The tower guard cocks his machine gun but Hatchet is already moving. She fires up at him and nails the guard square in the chest.

The other young woman sees her chance and starts running. She charges forward toward the gate and throws her basket with all her might before breaking right and diving into the trees.

_"BOOM!"_ The basket explodes into a massive fireball, blowing the front gate apart like it was made of tissue paper.

"Let's go!" I shout from the tree line. I charge forward with Ratchet, Tiller, Doc, and a hundred screaming highlanders right behind me. We reach Hatchet and I unsling her rifle from my back. I throw it to her and she catches it before tossing the TEC weapon to the dirt.

"Thanks," she says with a satisfied grin. "Those TEC rifles are garbage."

"Nicely done back there," I say as we run through the breach in the front gate.

"It was simple," she replies. "They never suspect anyone with boobs."

We sprint forward into the TEC base. The disoriented garrison tries to rally to defend itself, but the confused soldiers running out from the buildings make easy prey for our raiding party. We reach a crossroads overlooking the inlet. I tell the leader of the highlanders to break west and head for the first anti-aircraft battery. I and the rest of my team head east to the second one.

The five of us don't get very far before the TEC anti-aircraft crew opens fire right onto our position with a machine gun. We dive for cover behind a concrete storehouse just as the bullets begin peppering the ground around us.

"Ratchet, I believe it's time for our special surprises," I say. He unslings two plastic tubes from his back and throws them to me and Hatchet.

"Sure, make the mechanic carry everything," he mutters.

"Because that's all a mechanic is good for in combat, Grease Monkey," Hatchet says unscrewing the end of her plastic tube and pulling out a rocket launcher.

"Jeez, _Love you too_, _Dear_," he says indignantly.

"Love is not what we do out here. It's when we get back to my room at _The Three Foxes_," Hatchet says with a chuckle.

"Man," Doc says gagging a little. "Is it just me, or does everyone else feel that it's like hearing your brother and sister talk about having sex."

"Any issues on that subject should be brought up with your Platoon Sergeant, Doc," I say prepping my rocket launcher.

"But she's the platoon sergeant," Tiller says with a grin.

"Exactly," I reply. "Ready, Hatch?"

"On three, Sir," she says. "One…two…"

"Three!" I shout. We both spin around the corner of the storehouse and take aim at the anti-aircraft battery. We pull the triggers simultaneously and send two rockets screaming at the TECs. They disappear in a brilliant flash of smoke and shrapnel.

We run up to the remains of the anti-aircraft guns with our rifles at the ready. The TECs on the machine gun have been vaporized. Hatchet, Ratchet, and I break to the left while Tiller and Doc go to the right.

"We're clear on this side," Hatchet shouts peering around the edge of the guns. A TEC who had taken cover behind the concrete supports jumps out and points his weapon at her back, but Tiller instantly has his sights on him and sends the enemy to the ground with a burst from his assault rifle.

"Now, we're clear on this side as well," he says. Hatchet spins around and thanks him with a quick nod. We hear gunfire to the west and look down the mountainside to see the highlanders swarming over the other battery. Suddenly, my earpiece comes to life.

_"Mockingjay, this is Claymore 6,"_ a voice says in a thick highland accent. _"Western battery is out of commission."_

"Acknowledged, Claymore 6," I say clicking my transmit button. "Eastern battery is neutralized as well. Do you copy our traffic Falcon 1?"

_"Roger, Mockingjay. This is Falcon 1 starting our attack run now."_

We look down to the inlet below. The TEC patrol boats have seen that their anti-aircraft cover has been destroyed and are desperately trying to flee to the open sea, but it is too late. A squadron of British hovercraft come screaming out of the sky and make quick work of the entire TEC fleet. Soon, all that is left is a field of debris resting at the bottom of the Norwegian fjord.

When the falcons have completed their business with the TECs, they continue to circle over our heads to provide cover as another flight of hovercraft lands just inside the destroyed gate to transport us back to Britannia. We link up with the highlanders and congratulate them on their exceptional performance. As our allies climb onboard the hovercraft, I look over to see the leather-cloaked Norwegian woman walk out of the smoke and over to me.

She stands in front of the five of us and pulls back her hood. Despite the strong recommendation from the Norwegian resistance, I hesitated to use her for this dangerous mission considering she was only eighteen years old. The long blonde braids that hung from the sides of her head and her deep blue eyes made her only seem younger, but as she spoke to me, the quiet ferocity in her voice made me realize that she was, in fact, the perfect candidate.

"Thank you, Maia," I say staring into her eyes. "You were very brave today."

"You can really thank me by winning this war and freeing us from the tyranny of the Lawgivers once and for all, Mockingjay," she replies back in her thick Norwegian accent.

"Are you sure you don't want to come back to Britannia with us?" Hatchet asks. "The TECs will be looking for you after this attack."

"No," Maia replies immediately, "the rebels are already massing in the mountains for our next offensive. If Norwegia ever hopes to be free and independent, than we must have the courage to stand on our own." Hatchet smiles back at her. I know she admires Maia's courage.

"Good luck then to you, Maia. _May the odds be ever in your favor_," I say with a smile.

"Good luck to _you_, Mockinjay," she replies. "These mountains have been the ally of the Norwegians since the time the ancient gods walked with our ancestors. They will fight with us. When you go after Grosfrere, you will have to fight on the land of _his_ ancestors, and you will be alone."

"Not quite," I say looking at the team around me that has become a part of my family. "_I will never have to fight alone_."


	58. Freedom's Call Chapter 3

After a night's recovery, the five of us join Angus and Seamus in Tower Control for the morning teleconference with Central Briefing back in the Capitol.

"Good morning, everybody," I say with an encouraging grin toward Angus.

"Morning, Laddie," he says dispassionately, not taking his eyes of a pile of papers in front of him.

_ "Glad to see your mood is so much improved today,"_ I grumble to myself in my head as I take my seat next to him. Hatchet pulls out a chair next to mind and drops down like she owns the place. I crack a bit of a grin at her antics. One of the things I love most about my partner in crime is her ability to feel comfortable no matter the place or circumstances. Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller take their usual seats across the table from us. They're all still arguing about the results of a card game they were playing with a few Brit pilots last night in the bar at _The Three Foxes_.

"All, I'm saying is who in their right mind discards a pair of nines?" Ratchet says scowling at Doc.

"Look, I told you_, I'm sorry_. I thought we had it locked up with our straight the last hand."

"Well, obviously we didn't and now we're stuck doing lube orders on half a squadron of hovercraft that aren't even ours!"

"Yeah, man," Tiller throws in. "You have no idea how bad it is to have to drain that much hydraulic fluid out of an engine drive."

"That's why they call it _'gambling'_, fellas," Hatchet says to them from across the table. "You, don't always win."

"Again, I said I'm sorry and I'll help you guys out as much as I can." Ratchet and Tiller exchange glances and then burst into laughter.

"Listen, Doc," Ratchet says catching his breath. "You may be the best surgeon in the land when it comes to people, but you're worthless when it comes to machines."

"Hope you like being the drip pan dude." Tiller says with a grin.

_"The what?"_ Doc asks nervously.

"_The drip pan dude_: when you pull the drain plugs, all of the old oil and fluid rushes out at once and a guy has to stand underneath the hovercraft with a rubber pan and catch it so it doesn't spill all over the ground. Traditionally, it goes to the most inexperienced member of the team…_which happens to be you_," Ratchet says staring Doc in the face.

"_Bring a towel_," Tiller says with a smile. I hold back laughter as I imagine Doc covered in black, smelly grease from head to toe.

Suddenly, I feel a massive thud hit the table next to me. I look over to see Seamus towering above me with his arm extended and elbow resting on the table

"Not again," I say to him with sigh.

"C'mon, boyo," he says in his deep bass voice. "You're not scared are you?"

"No," I say, "It's just you win every time. I mean, your bicep in the size of my head. How could you not?"

"You're due for a bit of luck, Laddie. C'mon."

"Alright," I say resting my elbow on the table and gripping his massive hand.

"On my go," Hatchet says with one of her evil grins. "Ready…set…go!" I push against Seamus' arm, but I might as well be pushing against a freight train. My hand is slammed into the briefing table with a force strong enough to make the entire thing bounce off the ground.

"_Ow_," I say shaking my wrist as the giant lets me go.

"Best two out of three," he says laughing.

"No!" I shout. Seamus smiles from ear to ear and takes his seat back down at the table. "By the way Chief, I have to commend you for the outstanding performance of your highlanders yesterday. They fight like it's their blood."

"That's because it is, Laddie…"

Angus bangs his hands down on the table in front of him and gets everyone's attention.

"If you all are done acting like arses, it's time for the meeting. Maggie, patch us through to Panem."

"Yes Sir," she says meekly punching a few keys. I stare at Angus with a concerned look, but he just ignores me and goes back to studying his papers.

The static on the main screens clears into a picture of Amelia and President Holmes.

"Do you have us loud and clear, Tower Control?" Amelia says.

"Roger that, Central Briefing," I say with a smile as I hear her voice. "By the way, I believe congratulations are in order, _Major Flagg_," I say looking at the new rank insignia on Amelia's shirt.

"Thank you, Sir. It was _a long time coming_," she says back at me with a shrewd grin.

"Is that sass I hear in little Amelia Flagg's voice?" I say with a chuckle. "I think I like this new Chief Operations Officer you have there, Madame President. Did she come with the new building as well?"

Due to the mission yesterday, we missed the broadcast of the dedication of the newly reconstructed Defense Ministry and Presidential Mansion. The mansion was totally restored to its previous grandeur before Ohm's bombs leveled the original building over a year ago. The Ministry, on the other hand, was completely remodeled. The old building was a pre-revolution homage to the Peacekeeper's grip on an enslaved Panem with its patronizing murals of idealized life in Coriolanus Snow's police state. The new Ministry, however, is a vision of hope for the future. It's stone façade is decorated with the marble reliefs of fourteen goddesses, each dressed in the traditional garb of the thirteen districts and the Capitol. They all side by side with arms linked in an impenetrable phalanx that symbolically protects the nation from any threat. The message is clear: out of many, we have become one.

"I didn't think so," President Holmes says with a smile, "but I kind of like her as well." Amelia looks down as her cheeks turn beet red. "I think I'll let her stick around. Now, to business, General Snow."

"Yes, Ma'am," I say turning serious.

"I received your report on the Norwegia raid this morning, and I want to extend my congratulations. Forty-two TEC vessels destroyed with no friendly casualties. Plus, you say you were able to establish friendly relations with the Norwegian resistance cell on the ground?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I say looking up to her face on the screen. "The loss of that base will severely degrade the TEC's ability to maintain a presence in the eastern waters of Britannia. Considering the western ports are already receiving war materials from Panem faster than they can be processed for distribution, it would be my suggestion both to you and to War Chief McFadden that we establish a few shipping centers on the eastern coast as well.

It would mean a slightly longer trip for some Panem cargo vessels, but it would greatly increase the efficiency of the British War effort in receiving the necessary provisions."

"I have no problems with that as long as War Chief McFadden is in agreement." We look to Angus who merely waves his hand and grunts a muffled approval. "Very well," President Holmes continues. "Make the necessary preparations, Major Flagg. You should see the first arrivals to the eastern coast of Britannia the week after next, Chief McFadden."

"Yes Ma'am," Amelia says making a few notes. Angus continues to ignore President Holmes.

"Chief McFadden?" President Holmes asks again, not accustomed to being ignored. All of us in Tower Control stare at him with blank, confused faces. Finally, Maggie speaks up for him.

"Understood, Madame President," she says respectfully. "We will send you the coordinates to the beach heads by the beginning of the new week."

"Thank You," President Holmes says not taking her eyes off of Angus. I suddenly get the distinct impression that an international incident is about to occur in front of me. "Chief McFadden," President Holmes says adding a strong tone of disapproval to her voice. "Have I offended you in some way that I must make amends for?" Angus still does not look up from his papers. "CHIEF MCFADDEN ANSWER ME!"

"Excuse me?" he says calmly as he finally looks up at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

"_Was I talking to you?_" Driva booms in her angriest tone. Angus is seemingly unfazed. The rest of us, including Seamus the Bruce, clandestinely push a few inches back from the table. We know better than to interfere when the world leaders are fighting. "It's just I don't appreciate being totally ignored when Panem is providing your country with thousands of tons a week of supplies and the best military advisors I have at my disposal to help you fight against an enemy that has threatened your country's existence for hundreds of years!"

"You don't like being ignored," Angus says simmering. "YOU DON'T LIKE BEING IGNORED!" he shouts at the top of his lungs. He reaches down and grabs the papers he has been studying intently since my arrival. "Do you know what these are Madam President?" Angus asks condescendingly. "These are the latest civilian casualty reports from around Britannia. Do you know that we've had more civilian deaths in TEC attacks around Britannia in the past five months than we've had in the past five years? My people are _dying_, Madame President. All the beans and bullets in the world are shite to me if I don't have anyone left to use them. I am not a mercenary, Holmes. WHEN WILL PANEM JOIN IN THIS FIGHT WHERE IT COUNTS..._on the ground_?"

"Chief McFadden," President Holmes begins cautiously. "Every factory and arsenal in the UDP is now completely geared to the war effort. Lines at UDP Defense Force recruiting centers are around the block. We are training and equipping our army and navy as fast as we can, but you have to understand that building such a massive force takes time…."

"I'm tired of hearing your political bull..." Angus says uncharacteristically unprofessionally. _"When will they arrive?"_ President Holmes first turns to Amelia and then looks down at me. It is not often that I see her without an answer, and it is very disconcerting.

"Chief," she says in the most understanding tone she can muster, "right now, I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with the answer: _soon_."

"Soon…" Angus says trailing off. "Soon…." He pushes back from the table, gathers his papers, and rises to his feet. "I have to brief the War Council in one hour." He says burning holes into the image of Driva with his eyes. "Myself, and many leaders in that chamber are all thinking the same thing: the UDP is not serious about this fight. You stand on your polished podiums and espouse these lofty, sacred ideals of personal liberty and human rights, and you're perfectly happy throwing your huge amounts of money and resources at the problem, but when it actually comes to making the hard sacrifices: _laying down your lives for the ideals of freedom_….well, we're starting to think that you're a bunch of cowards."

My eyes flash over to Hatchet who has a look of burning rage on her face. I can sense she's about to fly to her feet and dive for Angus, but I reach out and hold her down. She flashes an angry look at me, but I just slowly shake my head back and forth until she leans back in her chair again. Angus merely says one more phrase:

"A word of warning, Madame President," he says to Driva who just stares back at him in silent humiliation, "Britannia does not make allies with cowards." Angus turns his back to her and begins moving toward the door. A beeping alarm that echoes through both Tower Control and Central Briefing stops him.

"What is it, Maggie?" He asks running over to her. The image of Amelia on the screen also reaches for a computer terminal that she pulls in front of her.

"We're receiving a mass transmission on the TEC public broadcast system. It's going to every television and video terminal on the continent."

"Is it Grosfrere," I ask walking over to them.

"No," Amelia says from Central Briefing in total shock. "_This isn't possible…_"

"Patch it through," Angus orders Maggie who immediately complies. The screen in Tower Control splits in half again, and we watch Amelia and Driva's stunned expressions as they see what we're watching simultaneously. The TEC broadcast is black at first, but soon the booming chorus of music begins:

_Allons enfants de la Patrie,_

_La jour de gloire est arrive!_

"That's ancient Francic," Maggie says to everyone. "My grandmother could speak it, but it's been banned in the TEC for almost a hundred and fifty years as 'counter to European unity." The music continues:

_Aux armes, citoyens,_

_Formez vos bataillons,_

_Marchons, marchons!_

_Qu'un sang impur_

_Abreuve nos sillons!_

The music fades, and an image appears on the screen that no one could have ever expected.


	59. Freedom's Call Chapter 4

Three men and two women stand in what appears to be a crumbling warehouse's basement. On the dingy brick wall behind them is a simple banner divided into three solid sections of blue, white, and red. Even though the flag the rebels have chosen is unassuming, it is striking in its simplicity. They are dressed in a random collection of antique clothing and rags that gives them the appearance of being some kind of traveling band of highwaymen or rogues. This impression is aided by the fact that each one of them has their face totally concealed except for their eyes. However, the most surprising thing of all is that each one of them is armed. The idea of a civilian in the TEC having a weapon was unthinkable until the attacks on TEC soldiers began a few months ago.

"So, I'll be the one to ask the question," Hatchet says to everyone as we stare at the screen in disbelief. "Why are they dressed like a bunch of gypsies getting ready to go trick-or-treating?"

"Clothing is not easy to come by in the Trans-European Commonwealth," Angus says quietly. "Except for the standard white jumpsuit that's issued to all citizens, you either make it or find it. They'll probably wearing outfits that were stitched during the _Century of Pain_ over two hundred years ago."

"Hope they washed them first," Hatchet quips under her breath.

"My fellow citizens," The TEC in the center of the group begins to speak in a thick Francian accent. The other four stand or sit speechlessly around him, staring at the camera in silent fury as they brandish their rifles. "Today, we have finally been able to access the TEC broadcast network to bring you our message of revolution. There is no doubt that the forces of Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere are trying to silence our broadcast and trace our location, so we must be brief…"

"_Then get on with it, Man_," Angus mutters under his breath.

"Just over a year ago," the Francian Rebel continues, "An inhuman attack occurred on the sacred earth of _La Belle Francia_, in which over four thousand innocent men, women, and children were burned alive by incendiary bombs dropped indiscriminately from attacking hovercraft.

We were told that this was an act of savage aggression by the United Districts of Panem that warranted the use of weapons of mass destruction in response. Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere ordered an attack that would have killed millions, asking us to accept that this was because the people of Panem tried to destroy us first…however, _this is a lie!_"

"Glad to see somebody down there has some sense," Ratchet says with relief.

"Yeah, the question is whether or not the other TECs will believe them," I respond.

Grosfrere said that there were no survivors of the attack on Francia, but he was _wrong _just as he has been wrong about so much else."

"WHAT?" All of us in Tower Control say simultaneously. The rebel leader gestures to a female fighter just to his right. She rises to her feet and steps off screen for a brief moment. When she reappears, she is leading a young girl of perhaps seven or eight by the hand. She places the child directly in front of the camera. The girl wears a cloth wrapped around her face like the others, and all that is visible is her dark brown eyes.

The girl stares at us for a few more seconds, before nervously looking back over her shoulder to the rebel leader.

"It is alright, _Cherie_," he says with a soft kindness in his voice. "They must see what was done to you so that there can be justice." The little girl looks back directly at the camera and unwraps the rags from her face. There is not a single person watching in Tower Control that does not gasp in horror at what is revealed. Even Hatchet, the hardened warrior that she is, covers her face with her hands and I see tears start to form in her eyes.

"Who could do that to an innocent child?" Hatchet gasps wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"I think we already have the answer to that, Sergeant," I say holding back my own nauseous stomach.

The left half of the child's face is that of a gorgeous little girl, innocent and young . The right half, is a twisted mass of charred scar tissue stretched over skull.

"Tell them, _Cherie_," the rebel leader says. "Tell them your story."

"My name is Cosette," the disfigured girl begins with quiet trepidation. "I am from the Village Francia 26709, and I am seven and a half years old…" She pauses unsure of herself and looks back to the rebel leader again.

"You are doing wonderfully, Cosette," he says still smiling at her with his eyes. "Please, just tell them what you told me."

"One day, a bunch of people were brought to our village," the little girl begins again. "They weren't from Francia. My mommy said that they were bad people from Panem that the Supreme Lawgiver had brought here to punish.

They started working at a place nearby. We didn't see them much, but they never seemed like bad people to me. The soldiers just were very mean to them. The soldiers made them work a lot for a long time, until one night. I was asleep in my bed, and then I heard a loud boom. I looked out my window and saw a big fire burning on the mountains north of my house. A lot of soldiers went to go see what happened, but then we heard a lot of guns shooting, and the soldiers came back.

Then, a bunch of hovercraft came from the sky. My daddy came and grabbed me and my brother and took us downstairs. He said that they weren't TEC ships, but they were ships from Britannia. Then the Britannia hovercraft killed all the TEC soldiers and left." The rebel leader interrupts for a brief second.

"Did the British hovercraft hurt anybody who wasn't a soldier?"

"No, they just hurt the soldiers at the camp. The only thing they dropped on the village was a bunch of papers that my mommy and daddy wouldn't let us see, but I saw them anyway. It said we should fight the Supreme Lawgiver, which I thought was really bad back then."

"What happened next, _Cherie_?"

"We went to see if we could help any of the TEC soldiers, but they were all dead. When the sun came up, it was my job to go and get our breakfast rations from the market. On my way back home, I heard more hovercraft. I thought it was the people from Britannia coming back so I got scared and hid in a drainage sewer that I played in sometimes with my brother. I looked up to the sky and saw the ships…but the ships didn't look like the ones from the last night. They were blue and had the big TEC seal on their wings." The girl starts to get more and more overcome with emotion as she continues. "They started dropping bombs all over the Village that exploded into bright hot flames. I head people screaming and crying, and I got even more scared. So I went down more into the drainage pipe. Then something on fire came dripping down the pipe and hit me in the face. It burned and hurt a lot and then my face turned like this…." The girl starts weeping as her memories return. The rebel leader motions for the female fighter to take Cosette away.

"The poor victim who just spoke to you, somehow survived by herself in the sewers for over two days until she was found by a farmer from the next valley over. Luckily, he had the sense to not report her to the authorities and take care of her himself until she was well enough to tell her story.

The truth is plain, my fellow citizens, to cover up his defeat and whatever activities Grosfrere was conducting in Cosette's valley, he ordered an entire population of innocent, loyal people _burned alive_.

Grosfrere may be of Francian blood, but true children of Francia know that no fellow compatriot with any shred of humanity could do this to his own people. Therefore, tonight, in view of millions of witnesses, I hereby announce the formation of the Francian Resistance!

We will fight against the despotism of the evil men who enslave us and, if necessary, sacrifice our lives so that our children will breathe free of a murderous tyrant! To Arms, Citizens of Francia! Form your battalions…"

"We've got to do something to help them, Sir," Ratchet says turning to me. "After all, it was our raid that led to that attack."

"Angus," I say turning to my old friend and hoping that there is still enough good blood between us. "With your permission, I would like to order supply drops over the Francian countryside. Food, ammunition, medical supplies, anything that we can spare to help them form a real threat to Grosfrere's powerbase…"

"Also," the Francian rebel leader continues. Suddenly, his image begins to fade in and out. Obviously, the TEC has found a way to start blocking his transmission. "To my fellow freedom fighters around Europe, join the struggle with us. From Iberia in the west to the Polskian Steppes in the East, we can end our oppression if we just rise up and fight! Yes, we may die, but if we do nothing, we will never really live." His image begins cutting in and out even more dramatically now. I now offer one more phrase to all those watching…" He holds his hands over his head in the TEC sign of victory, but instead of the usual ode to the Lawgivers he says something different:

E PLURIBUS UNUM EUROPA

The screen finally fades into static.

"We've lost the transmission, Sir," Maggie says.

"Can you trace its location?" Angus asks her.

"Negative Sir," Maggie replies. It was fed into the TEC broadcast network so that the origin would be unknown. Obviously, those rebels knew what they were doing.

"Well, that's somewhat encouraging," he mutters.

"Angus," I ask him again. "If you want to limit the number of British lives you risk until Panem arrives than this is the way to do it. They're willing to fight," I say pointing at the blank screen. "They just need our help to do it."

"So, you're telling me now that Britannia finally has enough supplies to actually carry the fight to the Techies for the first time in two hundred years, that I should order my people to randomly scatter precious rations to the winds across the European continent in the blind hope that they will find their way into the hands of a bunch of poorly trained freedom fighters that _might_ help our cause!"

"Yes, because it wasn't that long ago that I was having a similar conversation with President Holmes about an island named Britannia. You're a good man, Angus, a _better _one than I am. I know that things look bleak now, but forget politics. Warrior to warrior, we have to maintain our focus. Those fighters have done something so brave that we _must_ fight for it or else this war will be for nothing.

"And what is that, Ares?" Angus asks.

"They've taken responsibility for their own destiny. _They_ will be the ones that build a new TEC: free and independent of Grosfrere."

Angus gives me the look he gets when he knows he's being buttered up. It's all I can do not to smile because I know that means he will eventually agree with my logic.

"Maggie!"

"Yes Sir?" she says quietly.

"Get the intelligence boys spun up. I want a list of coordinates that they feel will be best for supply drops in Francia, Deutschland, and the Polskian Steppes."

"Yes Sir," Maggie says making a few notes. Angus storms out of Tower Control to his meeting with the War Council. I walk over to Maggie and lean on her work station.

'I knew he would come around…"

"Did you Sir?" she says to me with a sarcastic grin.

"You know, I'm sorry to be making so much extra work for you lately."

"Don't mind at all, Sir," Maggie says not taking her eyes off her screen. "It's my job after all." She really does remind me of Amelia, only with dirty blonde hair and a bit more of an attitude.

"Does Angus ever thank you?" I say curiously.

"Oh, not at work, Sir," she says very directly, "but when he tries to flirt at the pub, he can be a real sweetheart."

"What?"

"He's been trying to get me to go on a date with him for almost four years, Sir."

"And you keep saying 'no' to the War Chief? You've got more guts than I thought."

"I don't want to date my boss!" Maggie says indignantly. "That'd be just ridiculous. Plus, being the War Chief's chosen one is a nightmare. You have to make public appearance after public appearance and for some bloody reason, everyone always cares about what clothes you're wearing…."

"Well, if Angus knows you feel this way, then why does he keep asking?"

"Unfortunately, I might still be giving him a little hope…"

"How?"

"I tell him that I'll say 'yes' when the war's over, Sir,"

_ "In that case, I'll see what I can do about that," _I think to myself with a chuckle. _"After all, it's the least I can do for Angus considering what he's done for me."_


	60. Freedom's Call Chapter 5

"Really? _Angus and Maggie_?" Lizzy says with a smile through the screen at me. I was able to convince Maggie and Angus to let me hold onto my private video terminal in my room at _The Three Foxes_. Now, that things have settled down in the past few months, I'm able to get into regular contact with Lizzy back in District 4. Unfortunately, Octavian has still been a bit of a problem.

He's growing up faster than I could have ever imagined. Now, I've not only missed his first words, but also his first steps and his first full sentences. As much as it kills me inside to be apart from him, I have to admit we're at least making progress. Thanks mostly to Lizzy's insistence, he at least recognizes me now, though he's still very stand-offish whenever I try to talk to him.

"I know," I say leaning back on my bed and pulling my assault rifle apart. Lizzy was annoyed at this for the first few weeks, but now she understands that I have to multi-task in my limited free time. Getting to talk to her also means that I have to clean my weapons at the same time. "Apparently, he's been trying to date her for four years. She just won't say yes until the war's over."

"Ha!" Lizzy says happily. "Well, it sounds like from the way you tell it, you're thinking about pulling out that old _Ares Snow: Matchmaker_ routine of yours." Lizzy has come to know my British compatriots through my detailed stories and now insists on gossiping about them with me every time we talk.

"Since when have I ever been a matchmaker?" I say pulling my rifle's bolt carrier out of the receiver and wiping the grease off it with a towel.

"_Oh please_, Ares," Lizzy says rolling her eyes at me. "It's almost like you forget that I'm your wife sometimes. Remember three years ago when Jenny started working in the Psychology Department at the University with me?"

"Jenny….yeah, I forgot about her," I say sheepishly. "How is she doing anyway?" I ask banging the bolt assembly on my nightstand and knocking out the firing pin.

"Better than she was when she was dating Major Greenleafe…."

"I told you that Todd was a very nice man and I thought they would be very happy together."

"Well, Todd was a very nice man but he definitely wasn't the type that Jenny was looking for. I mean, he spilled that whole bottle of wine on her on their first date."

"Ok, Liz, _I got it_. Just because two people seem like they would be good together doesn't mean they will be."

"There you go, Ares. Just promise me you won't mess with Angus and Maggie too much. I really like both of them."

"_Alright…_" I quietly mutter.

"What was that? Didn't quite hear you, Ares."

"I promise," I say with a frustrated grumble as I yank the spring out of my rifle out of the receiver next and throw it down on the table. The sun is close to its apex here in Britannia, but the day is just beginning in Panem.

"Better," Lizzy says to me with a smile. I look past her to see the rising sun coming over the waves of the sea outside of the cottage she and Octavian share with Finnick. Lizzy has taken an indefinite leave of absence from the Capitol University where she is an associate professor of Psychology. Now, she conducts research and writes on her own while spending most of her time raising our son. I could never hope to repay Lizzy for the hardships she has been willing to endure for our family…and despite the secret jealously I feel toward Finnick as he gets to see my son grow up instead of me, I can never repay him for his amazing love and kindness towards us either.

Lizzy stares at me through the screen her sea-green eyes.

"I love you, _my amazing husband_," she quietly whispers across the world to me.

"and I love you, _my gorgeous, genius wife_." I pause and look away from her for a second. I grab a metal pick and starts mindlessly scrapping some mud off the muzzle of my barrel. "Is Octavian out with Finnick?" I ask already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Lizzy responds somewhat nervously. "They've been out in the boat fishing since an hour before dawn. Octavian is really starting to love it."

"That's wonderful…" I say trying to hide my envy of Finnick.

"Finnick has even started showing him to weave a fishing net."

"Weave a fishing net?" I say surprised. "Octavian's only two!"

"You're forgetting, Babe," Lizzy says batting her eyes at me in a way that still makes my heart flutter, "he's an Odair. It's in our blood." I laugh out loud.

"Of course, how could I be so stupid," I say sarcastically. "I suppose I should be happy," I say staring out of my window out over the London skyline. "I did tell Katniss that I wanted him to be a fisherman instead of a soldier. That way he doesn't ever have to know any of this mess…"

"Do you _really_ mean that?" Lizzy asks raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," I say looking back at her image on the screen. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because Octavian may be half Odair, but he's also half _Snow_, Ares."

"_Unfortunately_…." I mutter to myself.

"Dammit Ares!" Lizzy shouts. "I really thought you were past this self-denigrating bull…" Lizzy says speaking directly from her inner-strength. It catches my attention instantly. "Haven't I explained to you time and time again why I fell in love with that cocky young officer who suckered me into having dinner with him that night after a psychology lecture? It's because whether or not you actually felt the confidence on the inside, you still let it seep through every pore on your body.

Your ancestors may not have been the most moral people on the planet, Ares, but they did pass on a trait to you that has been your saving grace and I pray will be passed on to our son as well."

"And what is that, Lizzy?" I ask slightly frustrated.

"_Charisma_, Ares. You make people trust you because you sound like you genuinely care about them. You have a way of phrasing things that makes the message come alive. _You're a leader._ You could tell a group of people that they need to jump off a cliff and they would do it because you can make them trust you. That's not because of the R & R center, My Dear," Lizzy says staring right at me. "That is one-hundred percent pure Snow DNA that pumps through your veins. Not everything that Coriolanus left to you was a bad thing. I mean, you even told our son that he shouldn't be ashamed of his name…"

"Wait," I say holding up my hand to stop her, "You watched the tape I gave you for Octavian?"

"Of course I did!" Lizzy says throwing her hands up in the air. "Do you think I'm going to just let Octavian see some recording from his father who was killed years before without having any idea what was on it?"

"That was supposed to be for Octavian, Elizabeth…"

"Oh, stop it, Ares. You and I both knew the second that you handed that tape to me that I was going to watch it. Am I lying?" I try to pretend to be angry but I know I can't. I look down and laugh a little bit.

"No…you're not."

"Exactly," Lizzy says looking away for a brief second. I notice a small tear forming in her eye. "By the way, I think that was one of the most beautiful things I've ever watched. I cried for two weeks straight after seeing that thing. Finnick didn't know what to make of it."

"Did he see the tape?" I ask nervously.

"Of course not," Lizzy says with a grin. "I thought you trusted me enough to know that it's only for our immediate family."

"Good," I say relieved. Lizzy pauses for a few more seconds.

"Ares?" she says with a lot of trepidation. I already know what she's going to ask me.

"Yes, Baby," I reply.

"I know you can't tell me a lot of details. I've come to terms with that a long time ago, but as your wife, I need to know..."

"Ok…" I say trailing off and looking down at the floorboards.

"How close have you come to needing for me to show Octavian that tape?" I nod my head several times trying to find the right words. Finally, I place the parts of my rifle that I am still working on aside and grip the edge of the video terminal as if I was trying to hold Lizzy's hand.

"A lot closer than you'd like to know…" Lizzy nods her head this time as if she already figured out the truth and was just afraid to accept it.

"I know, Ares," she says closing her eyes. "I already knew. But at least promise me one thing?" Lizzy asks in a very serious tone.

"And what is that?"

"I understand that you have to put your life on the line. _You're a soldier_, that's what you do, but at least promise that whenever you risk yourself, it's for a good reason. I have to know that if you're taken away from us, it's not going to be for some pointless idiotic mistake that could have been prevented. I need to know that it was because it was the only way…"

"Lizzy..." I say trying to figure out how to react.

"Just promise me!" she says impatiently.

"Alright, I promise."

"Good," she says looking to a clock off screen. "Finnick and Octavian should be getting back soon. I need to make the little guy's breakfast."

"Ok," I say a little sadly.

"Hey," she says bringing her face right up to the screen. "I love you." I lean down to the screen as well.

"I love you, too," I say with a smile. We close our eyes, press our lips against the glass, and pretend for a brief second that it's for real. "Be sure you give the little guy a giant hug and a kiss from his daddy."

"I do every day. You stay safe over there!" she says with a stern word of warning.

"And you stay safe back there!"

"As long as we have the ocean, we'll be fine," she says with a grin. It is a very cryptic response for anyone not from District 4, but for Lizzy, it makes perfect sense. I know her enough to leave it alone.

She waves goodbye and her image fades to black. I sigh as I reach forward and switch my terminal off. I stare around the room for a few introspective moments trying to get my thoughts and Lizzy's words to coexist peacefully in my brain, but soon give up when I realize it is all but hopeless.

I pick up a clean cloth and begin to focus on my rifle again. Somehow, cleaning a weapon is a very meditative experience when done correctly. There is a clear beginning and a clear end and it is obvious how to go from one to the other: the weapon is dirty and needs to be clean and the only way for that to happen is to scrub. I've spent many hours polishing even the tiniest parts of a rifle until they shined like they were brand new solely for the reason that I needed to clear my mind. Today, however, is not one of those times.

I bring the rifle to a decent stage of cleanliness, apply a thin coat of oil to the working parts, and then assemble them back together into a working weapon. I just can't seem to stay focused enough right now to really put in the time and energy to do more.

I set the weapon aside and walk over to the window. I stick my head out into the afternoon sun and take a deep breath of air. Just when I am about to be bring myself back to a state of relative calm, there is a knock at my door.

I go over and open it. It's Hatchet, nervously standing in the hallway. She barges past me right into my room.

"Come in, Sergeant, _please_," I say sarcastically. I close the door and turn around to face her.

"Sir," she says awkwardly crossing her hands across her chest. "We need to talk…"

"_Uh oh_," I think instantly. _"I don't know women that well, but I certainly know enough to realize that nothing good ever follows those words."_


	61. Freedom's Call Chapter 6

"So, what's up, Sergeant?" I say trying to sound concerned.

"Well, Sir, I couldn't help but hear your conversation with your wife…"

"You were listening to my private conversation?" I say incredulously.

"What?" Hatchet says like she did nothing wrong. "The walls are really thin in this place."

"That they are…" I mutter as I stare up at the ceiling and think about how much sleep I've lost in the last year trying to block out Hatchet and Ratchet in the next room. I look back to her face and she that something is really bothering her that she needs my help with. _"I swear, sometimes she's less like my sergeant and more like a little sister I feel very protective of."_

"Is being married nice?" she asks with an anxious look. I find myself nervously chuckling at her question.

"Well, that's a very simple question with a very complicated answer, Hatch."

"Just try, Sir," she says walking over to my bed and sitting down.

"Hatch…."

"Sir! Please." I see that she really needs this.

"Ok," I say walking over and taking a seat next to her. "Imagine being with a person that knows you better than yourself. Someone, that you can't hide anything from, and someone that you don't want to hide anything from." I think of Lizzy's calming influence over my moods. How she can see straight through the barriers I put up around my deepest secrets and say exactly what I need to feel whole again. "Imagine, trusting someone more than you trust yourself and when they say something about you that you don't want to here, you actually are secretly grateful because you know they're right and you needed to hear it." I stare off toward the wall at the far end of the room, thinking more of my own issues than Hatchet's.

She looks at me with perplexed yet understanding eyes.

"Is it worth it?" she asks with a bit of hesitation.

"Well, that's a question you have to ask yourself, Olivia." I say with a slight smile. "Are you ready to live for someone else instead of just for yourself?"

"What about more than one someone else?"

"Say what?" I ask confused.

"What about children? You have your son, right? I heard you talking to your wife about him. Is having a kid really as good as people say it is?" I look down to the floorboards totally out of my element. After all, Lizzy is the counselor, not me.

"It can be hard…" I say thinking of the pain I feel every day knowing that Octavian is growing up without his father.

"I didn't ask if it was hard," Hatchet says firmly. "I asked if it was worth it." She looks at me with her fierce blue eyes again. "Tell me what it was like the moment your son was born."

"Why do you want to know this all of a sudden?"

"Just tell me, Sir!" I stare straight back at her.

"It was the strangest moment of my life," I say trying to get my thoughts together.

"How?"

"It was the only time I've ever felt completely terrified, but utterly ecstatic at the same time." Hatchet smiles and looks away. "Alright, Olivia, enough tip-toeing around it. Why did you go from super solider to love-sick puppy in less than twenty-four hours?" I expect to get a tongue-lashing from Hatchet, but there is none. She just does something totally unexpected. She sighs and then rests her head on my shoulder. I freeze, completely unable to process what has just happened. It's very easy to forget that she's not just one of the boys sometimes.

"Sergeant," I finally am able to get out, "What are you doing?" She doesn't move at all.

"You know, Sir," she says with a smile on her lips, "it's kinda funny…"

"What is?" I say nervously, afraid to move like I have a hungry wolverine resting inches from my face.

"I was never really able to connect with my mother, or any other woman, in fact. I'm always so afraid to show anyone who I really am since I'm always trying to put on this big and tough soldier girl routine. I've got to after all since I'm leading guys into combat. They don't want to see a woman, they want to see a big tough guy like them. But with you, for the first time ever, I feel safe to let you see the real me and know you'll still respect me in action."

"Thank you, Olivia," I say trying to maintain my composure. "I'm not even sure how to take that…" She lifts her head off my shoulder and stares right at me.

"_Gratefully_," she says with her old fierceness returning. I'm very uncomfortable right now. After all, I'm not supposed to be Hatchet's friend. I'm supposed to be her commander, able to send her on a mission that could possibly result in her death at a moment's notice. I'm torn by my desire to cut her off and demand that she return to our previous state of detached professionalism…but I also understand that here, on the other side of the world, we need a special relationship between the members of our team. We're alone here in Britannia and need to lean on each other very hard to maintain our humanity. Despite all my instincts, I decide to be the confidant she needs me to be at this moment.

"Alright, Hatch," I say staring her down. "Tell me the truth. What the hell is going on with you right now?" She looks away for a brief moment, but then turns right back at me, flashing her bright eyes right at mine.

"Clint asked me to marry him last night. He told me that seeing that poor girl from the TEC made him realize what was really important, and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He wants me to be the mother of his children."

"And you want to know what marriage is like before you tell him yes?" I say coming to a bit of understanding.

"Not quite…" she says a bit standoffishly.

"What do you mean?" I ask apprehensively.

"I already told him _yes_…"

"Wow…." I say genuinely taken aback. I stare at the wall across from me and realize that the entire dynamic of the team has changed. "And obviously, you're concerned that the war will last a long time and make planning your wedding more difficult?" I ask hopefully.

"Not quite…" she says _very_ standoffishly.

"_What?_"

"We want to get married here in Britannia…_next week_."

"WHAT!" I say bolting to my feet. "You can't be serious?"

"I absolutely am, Sir," she says quite aggressively.

"Why? Why could you possibly want to change things on the team so much when we're finally so close to taking the fight to the TEC?"

"Because, you're right. We don't know how long this war is going to last. And the next time we go into action together, we want to know that if one of us doesn't come back, we already committed ourselves to each other." I pace back and forth across the room a few times trying to wrap my head around this. Finally, I'm able to look her in the face and ask:

"It sounds like you two have already made up your minds. Why are you asking my opinion, Sergeant?" She glares at me with an annoyed look.

"Two reasons, Sir," she grumbles.

"And they are?" I ask a little upset.

"The first is that we want your approval. You _are_ our commander after all. We're professional enough to realize we can't change the team so much without making sure our boss is on the same page." I bury my face in my hands and have no idea what to say.

"Sir," Hatchet says sternly. "Have Ratchet and I ever acted unprofessionally in action as a result of our relationship?"

"No," I say rubbing my eyes.

"And do you have a reason to think that if we get married our behavior will change toward each other? That I will be compromised in my ability to lead Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller in combat against our enemies?"

"No…"

"Then what's the problem?" she asks climbing to her feet.

"It's just…" I hesitate a bit before finally spitting out my answer. "It's just I'm not used to talking about two of my soldiers marrying each other." Hatchet just cocks her head to the side and sticks out her chin.

"Welcome to the new world, Sir," she says firmly. "We'll abide by any decision you make, but it better be made for the right reason. _I think you owe us that_." She's right…_I do_. I straighten myself out and look her dead in the eyes.

"Very well, Sergeant Sawbleyde, you have my permission to marry Sergeant Hightower."

"Thank you, Sir," she says with a huge smile.

"That reminds me," I say grinning, "What will I call you after next week? Or should I say what will I call Ratchet? Will he be Mr. Sawbleyde?" We both laugh.

"No Sir," Hatchet says grinning. "I'll be Sergeant Hightower as well…but you can still call me 'Hatchet."

"Nice," I say. "Oh, you said there was another reason?"

"Yes Sir…" Hatchet says even more nervously than before.

"What is it?" I say with a smile.

"Clint and I were kind of hoping…that _you_ would perform the ceremony, Sir."

"_Me?_" I say totally shocked. "Why would you want _me_ to do it? I've never performed a marriage ceremony before. Don't you two want somebody who will be able to make it special?"

"Sir," she says looking at me with a smirk. "Neither of us are very religious and District 7 and District 3 have _totally_ different ceremonies. What would make it special for us is for the ceremony to be performed by someone who we both care about."

"And that's me?" I ask incredulously.

"Who else would it be?" Hatchet says chuckling. I just turn a bit red.

"I guess I never thought that you guys cared about me as much as I cared about you…"

"Well then, Sir," Hatchet says shaking her head, "you're an _idiot_." Both of us laugh again.

"In that case, Olivia, if it's what you both want…_I'll do it_." Hatchet's face lights up and she dashes over to me. Before I can react, she throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.

"You're amazing, Sir," she whispers right into my ear. I can't help but wonder if this is the same woman that I saw blow through three TEC guards and take out an anti-aircraft battery with a rocket launcher just two days ago. I slowly raise my hands and awkwardly pat her on the back.

"Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate that…" Hatchet pulls way and begins pacing around the room.

"There's so much to do with so little time," she says brushing some hair out of her face. "Plus, I personally promise that not a single mission will be compromised by this. We'll completely plan this on our personal time."

"I appreciate your professionalism…." Hatchet interrupts me before I can finish my thought.

"And I guarantee that you won't have to a worry about a single detail. We'll take care of the ceremony and you'll just have to show up, Sir."

"Well, if you need me to rehearse something, just let me know…"

"This is amazing!" Hatchet says acting like I'm not even in the room. "I've got to tell Clint! I'll see you around, Sir. Thank you again!" Hatchet spins around and dashes out my door. As she slams it behind her, I find myself alone again. After a few seconds of wrapping my head around this newest crazy series of events, I walk over to my bed and collapse in a heap on top of the mattress. As I stare up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, I let my thoughts drift through the chaos and revelations of the last few days: Angus, Maggie, Lizzy, Hatchet and Ratchet… Suddenly, I begin to laugh hysterically at the top of my lungs. Even though it means I'm probably losing my mind, I know that somehow things will work out. How could they not when everyone is planning for the future?


	62. Freedom's Call Chapter 7

I walk down the rickety wooden stairs of _The Three Foxes_ and take a seat at the bar next to Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc. Mrs. Marbury slides a pint mug of beer to me with a smile.

"To Bachelorhood," Tiller says raising his mug above his head.

"I haven't been able to drink to that in a while," I say sarcastically.

"That's alright Sir," Tiller says pointing to Ratchet, "he can only drink to it till tomorrow morning anyway." We all laugh and join in his toast.

"To Bachelorhood!" we shout as we slam our metal mugs together with a loud, "_clink_."

Ratchet takes a deep sip of his beer before turning back to us.

"Jealous much?" he asks to Tiller.

"_Not at all_," he responds firmly. "You have good luck with that one upstairs," he says motioning toward Hatchet's room. "So Sir, I happen to have been noticing that you've been spending a lot of time with the bride to be lately…"

"I don't care how you say it. _That just sounds so damn weird_," Doc mutters taking a long sip of his beer.

"Yes, I have been, Tiller. What's your point?"

"Yeah, what is your point?" Ratchet says turning toward Tiller.

"Oh nothing to impugn the honor of _our_ platoon sergeant and _your _future wife," Tiller says defensively, "I was just wondering if the Sir here was Hatchet's _maid of honor_, that's all." The three of them burst out laughing and I just look at Tiller with a crooked grin on my face.

"Tiller…"

"Yes Sir," he says flashing me a smile.

"Come here," I say reaching across the bar and motioning him to lean towards me. When he's in arm's reach, I smack him hard across the back of his skull.

"_Ow_," he says rubbing his head.

"Well, considering you just called the Chief of the whole UDP Defense Forces a '_maid_,' I think you got away pretty easy," Doc says with a chuckle.

"Alright, alright," I say with a smile, "all the bull… aside, Ratchet…"

"Sir!" he says turning to me.

"Ok, this is your bachelor party and considering that we are _your groomsmen_," I say flashing a look toward Tiller who smiles back, "I want to congratulate you by offering this little toast:

I remember when you first met Olivia over a year ago, and I distinctly remember you telling her that having a 'Hatchet and Ratchet' on the same team just sounded stupid. Well, not to sound contradictory so late in the game, but I don't think it sounds stupid at all. I've watched you two grow together and I know for a fact how much she cares about you." Ratchet gets a slightly embarrassed look on his face and stares down into his drink. "Hatchet has done so much for everyone sitting here right now, and I know that each and every one of us feel the same way as I do.

And you, Ratch, I know that you are an honorable man who strongly governs himself by what he knows to be right and wrong. You deserve a woman like Hatchet, and she deserves a man like you."

"Thank you, Sir," Ratchet says with a grateful nod.

"Definitely, man," Tiller says patting Ratchet on the back.

"You're one of the best friends I've ever had," Doc says staring right at Ratchet, "Even if you did make me hold that damn drip pan for all those hovercraft. Seriously, will I ever stop smelling like transmission fluid?"

"Nope," Ratchet says with a laugh, "Consider that a badge of honor."

"Ok," I say raising my mug into the air again, "As we all take a drink to Olivia and Clint's long and happy life together, let's also make a vow among all of us as well. This war will not last forever. Let's promise that we will do everything in our power to make sure that the two of them make it home together." Everyone at the bar falls silent. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if such an amazing love didn't last for years to come." I know it's a much more somber note that they were all expecting tonight, but it's one I think they all need to hear. "I've come to realize that we're all a family now…_and family takes care of its own_." I look at their faces and see that they've all understood my words. Doc silently raises his mug.

"I promise," he says with iron conviction in his voice. A second later, Tiller raises his mug to join Doc's.

"I promise, too. Someone's got to be around when this is all over and still be happy," he says with a slightly uncomfortable chuckle. Ratchet looks at the three of us and his eyes start to get a little glassy. He raises up his mug toward the others.

"I love you guys," he says trying to wipe the tears from his face, hoping we didn't notice. "I'll drink to that, but don't think for one second I'll let any of you do anything to stupid for me."

"I don't think you have a choice in that, brother," I say lifting my mug to complete the circle. "To Hatchet and Ratchet's long and happy life together."

"To Hatchet and Ratchet's long and happy life!" the others echo as we clink mugs again.

"So, you guys decide to have a party and not invite your platoon sergeant? That's messed up," we hear from behind us. We turn around to see Hatchet, defiantly standing with her hands on her hips.

"Babe!" Ratchet says nearly spilling his beer. "I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding! It's bad luck." Hatchet strides over to the bar and takes a seat next to me. "A real soldier makes her own luck…and that's Sergeant Sawbleyde to you when we're in uniform, Grease Monkey," she says with a coy smile. The other three of us can't help but laugh a little. "Oh, and after tomorrow, it'll be Sergeant Hightower to you when we're in uniform…" Hatchet says raising her eyebrows to her future husband. Ratchet is taken aback but can't help but smile. I know it's because he just loves her strength so much.

"Yes…"

"Yes what?" she says getting Mrs. Marbury's attention.

"Yes _Sergeant_…"

"There we go…" she says as Mrs. Marbury walks over to her.

"And what can I get for the blushing bride to be?" Mrs. Marbury says in her most motherly tone.

"Were you able to find it for me?"

"Who do you think you're talking to, Dearie?" Mrs. Marbury says leaning down behind the bar. She comes back up with five shot glasses and a bottle of clear liquor.

Hatchet places a glass in front of each one of us. Mrs. Marbury starts to open the bottle but Olivia puts out a hand to stop her.

"Don't worry about that, Alice, I've got it," she says with a smile. Mrs. Marbury hands her the bottle and Hatchet pulls her axe from her belt. In one quick motion, she slams the back of the weapon into the cork and sends it shooting across the bar.

"This is something very special," she says pouring each of us a shot. "This may sound crazy, but my ancestors once came from Norwegia a very long time ago. We still make this is District 7 and Mrs. Marbury here was kind enough to find me a bottle that a friend of hers got through the TEC lines. If you don't drink it, it's an insult to her, an insult to the Norwegians, and an insult to my heritage."

"Wouldn't want to insult anybody," I say cautiously reaching for my drink. Hatchet picks up her glass and makes one last toast as a bachelorette.

"To the team!" she says as we all click our glasses together. "And I don't want to hear any more of that bull… about you guys trying to protect me. It's my job to protect you…._all of you_," she says with a stern look to me.

We all take the shot and it feels like liquid fire going down my throat.

"Oh my God, _what is this_?" I ask gasping for air.

"Relax," Hatchet says after she polishes her drink off in one gulp. She quickly pours herself another. "It's made from honey."

"Still tastes like freaking hovercraft fuel," Doc says patting his chest with his fist.

"Yeah," Hatchet says nonchalantly taking her second shot. "You have to have balls to really enjoy it." All five of us burst out laughing.

The next morning dawns beautifully clear. When the time comes, I gather up the groom along with Doc and Tiller and walk with them over to a grove of trees a few blocks from _The Three Foxes_. Hatchet demanded to at least have leaves over her head when she said her vows.

We take our place in front of an ancient oak as the guests start to arrive. It's a very small ceremony just as Hatchet and Ratchet requested. It's only the team, Angus, Maggie, Mrs. Marbury, and a few other close friends we've made since our arrival in Britannia. As I stand staring down the makeshift aisle in my dress blacks, I make a few final adjustments to Ratchet's uniform.

"Are you ready?" I ask with a smile.

"No, Sir. I'm actually really scared," he whispers back.

"Don't worry then," I say reassuringly. "That means you'll be just fine." One of Mrs. Marbury's friends begins to play a wooden flute in an ancient country ballad from Britannia. Since neither the bride nor the groom could agree on a ceremony that blended the traditions of Districts 7 and 3, they both came to the decision to just do it their way: simple and full of genuine love.

A flash of white at the end of the aisle catches my eye. I nod to Doc and Tiller who are standing next Ratchet. They take their places before I look the groom right in the face.

"Turn around," I say calmly. He slowly moves to see Hatchet, dressed in simple, white calico walking towards him carrying a bouquet of local wildflowers. He stares at her in silent adoration. I know at this moment that they are, in fact, destined to be together.

As she reaches our group, Hatchet holds out her hand to me which I place gently into Ratchet's waiting (and a bit sweaty) palm. Then, I begin the ceremony.

"Friends and family," I say to everyone present. "We are here today to join these two people together in marriage. When they complete their vows, they will be husband and wife, joined together in one existence from now until they are parted by death." I look to Hatchet and Ratchet, but it is like I am invisible to them. All they can see at this moment is each other.

"Olivia, do you promise to love and honor this man? To be with him through both triumph and tragedy as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she says with a softness I have never heard in her voice before.

"Clint, do you promise to love and honor this woman? To be with her through both triumph and tragedy as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," he says gazing into Hatchet's eyes. Suddenly, I see tears begin to roll down his cheeks. When she sees Ratchet, Hatchet can no longer hold herself together either, and begins to cry as well.

"Marriage is not a destination," I say speaking from my own heart. "It is a journey, and not always a pleasant one. It is fraught with danger and peril, for it is in our natures to not always want what is best for another, but instead look out just for ourselves. However, the real miracle that occurs when two people find each other and fall in love, is that somehow, despite all their instincts and desires, they will find a way past mankind's natural pettiness and greed, and live solely for each other…

Now, by the power vested in me by all those present, I hereby pronounce you both husband and wife. _You may kiss the bride_."


	63. Freedom's Call Chapter 8

Unfortunately, I could only afford to give Hatchet and Ratchet two days off for their honeymoon. After a short reception, they immediately disappeared to get to work on their life as husband and wife. For the rest of us, it was right back to the war.

The next morning, -Tiller, Doc, and I meet Angus in Tower Control. He's pouring over intelligence reports about TEC troop movements while President Holmes and Amelia's faces loom over the room on the big screen.

"Honestly," Angus says with a furrowed brow, "Something big is happening. Ten divisions have begun moving from the eastern frontier toward the west. Right now, there massing near Germania, but could be rerouted anywhere along the Britannic Channel in less than a day." He doesn't notice our presence, but Driva sure does.

"Nice of you to finally join us, General," she says with a bit of a smirk. I check the time on my communicuff.

"Actually, ma'am we're ten minutes early," I say holding up my wrist. "If you want to change the time of our meetings, please make sure I get the memo." President Holmes looks down at her own communicuff and raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh," she says very perturbed. "My apologies to you and your team, General Snow. I must be _getting old_."

"Don't be silly, Ma'am," I say shaking my head back forth. "You look young and fresh as a spring rain." Angus just rolls his eyes. For some reason, he's never in the mood for playful banter anymore.

"Well thank you, Ares," President Holmes says smiling back slightly embarrassed. "Please, give my congratulations to Sergeant Hightower and Sergeant Sawbleyde when you see them again. Even though I can't quite comprehend marrying someone you work so closely with, I have to say that I am very happy that you're able to preserve a bit of normalcy over there."

"I think you mean Sergeant Hightower _and_ Sergeant Hightower, Madame President," I say with a grin, "and yes I'll mention your kind words to them. Believe me, it took a little while for us to get used to them as a couple as well, but now we see that they wouldn't be the same without each other." President Holmes smiles back to me, but Angus takes that opportunity to clear his throat loudly.

"Yes, I am as ecstatic for Olivia and Clint as everybody else is, but need I remind everyone that a hundred thousand TEC soldiers are bearing down on Western Europe as we speak? What exactly are the responsible parties in this room going to do to make sure that our allies in the resistance are not annihilated before there is an armed invasion of this island? Questions, comments, suggestions, anyone?" he says sarcastically before looking around to each one of us.

The alarms begin again in Tower Control and Central Briefing. I swear I'm beginning to think that the TECs time their transmissions to coincide with these meetings.

"Another incoming broadcast from the TEC, Sir," Maggie shouts out.

"Is it the resistance again?" Angus asks hopefully.

"No Sir," Maggie says shaking head. "This one is coming directly from Germania itself."

The big screen is Tower Control comes to life. Burning buildings lie in ruins, and the mangled bodies of TEC civilians in their white jumpsuits lie strewn over the charred earth. A narrator begins to speak:

_"This is what our enemies call freedom…"_ The camera draws in close to the bloody, gaunt face of a dead TEC child, her eyes fixed and dilated, staring off into space as everyone in Tower Control and Central Briefing covers their mouth in silent revulsion. We all know that it was Grosfrere who engineered these sights of horror for his people.

"_The so-called "Resistance" against the Sacred Law is nothing but a lie told by the perverted to draw us away from the light and back into the ages of darkness…"_ The images of horror continue unabated. More innocents are shown dead and murdered in various poses of agony. Suddenly, the terrified scream of a woman pierces the speakers. _"Our enemies have joined together in a last attempt to halt the unyielding progress of the Trans-European Commonwealth toward total peace and harmony…" _The image of a man dressed in a highlander's kilt with wild unkempt hair and a face caked with blood stands alongside another equally terrifying man with bright crimson eyes who wears the uniform of a UDP soldier. They suddenly raise their assault weapons toward the camera and empty their magazines directly at the audience while yelling like feral animals. The hideous screaming in the background continues until the screen fades to black. _"But there is one man…" _The image of the TEC flag waving in the sky on a bright sunny day appears and the anthem of the TEC begins to play in the background. _"Who will stand against the evil avalanche and protect us with the holy force of the law?" _The waving flag morphs into the silhouette of Grosfrere who appears staring off toward the horizon. He cuts a heroic figure, dressed in shining blue TEC armor decorated with yards of gold bullion hanging from his shoulders and medal after medal attached to his chest. The message is clear: _the Supreme Lawgiver is ready for war_.

The camera pans back to a live image of a rally at "The Heart" in Germania. A crowd even larger than the one that greeted Grosfrere at the stadium a year ago sings the tones of the TEC anthem in perfect unison, their hands crossed high and proud over their heads in the TEC sign of victory. Their Supreme Lawgiver stands on the same balcony of "The Heart" on which he announced the invasion of Panem all those months ago. He stares out at his people, flanked by the massive portraits of the Supreme Lawgivers that came before him. Grosfrere and the crowd are separated by a huge polished stone street that must be at least five hundred yards across. It is easy to become intoxicated by the massive scale of the spectacle and for a brief moment, even I admire that psychopath for his brilliant use of propaganda.

At this point, I would usually expect a snide comment from our side, but none of us, including me, can seem to come up with one that appropriately breaks the tension. I am overwhelmed by the realization that it is my impossible task to defeat these maniacs. I really wish Hatchet was here. She would definitely be able to put us all at ease with one of her confident aphorisms.

The TEC anthem comes to a close and the camera focuses back on Grosfrere, who is literally shining in the noon-day sun in his suit of blue armor. He begins to speak:

"My fellow citizens of the glorious Trans-European Commonwealth," the camera briefly cuts back to a few people in the crowd. The look of relief of their faces is extreme, as if a deity was talking directly to them with reassuring words of safety and victory. "We now stand at the crossroads of history. Down one road, is the path our enemies have chosen. They wish for us to lay down our arms and submit ourselves to the tyranny of their democracy. Down the other path, is the way of submission to the law and a glorious future where the individual is erased and there is only sublime service to the State.

A few perverted souls among us have lost faith in that vision. They have rejected the glorious and perfect law of our land and committed unspeakable acts of atrocity against our fellow citizens and those magnificent TEC soldiers who protect us. However, _I_, the Man among Men, the Supreme Lawgiver will no longer allow them to threaten you and your children. I will send my armies against them and bring devastation and pain for every act of terror they commit.

It has fallen to me," Grosfrere says gesturing to the massive portraits hung on the side of "The Heart's" sloped marble walls, "As your Supreme Lawgiver in this time of trials to dispense merciless justice upon them!" The crowd erupts in a deafening roar. After a few seconds, Grosfrere holds up his hand and the thousands instantly fall silent. "The greatest weakness of a democracy is that instead of being ruled by the sublime absolutes of the Law, they are instead governed by the blind ramblings of the mob. They stupidly believe that through _tolerance_, we will fail to see the superiority of our perfect method of authority and fall into their trap of sloth and laziness. I assure you all here that I will never cave in to those idiotic demands. Their desire for peace is their fatal weakness! I will fight them and they will die! They will all die by the hand of our unstoppable war machine!" The crowd erupts again into wild cheers. Most of the faces in Tower Control and Central Briefing bury their heads in their hands. I silently stare at the screen. Even though Grosfrere cannot see me, I somehow pray that by some miracle, he will feel my resolve to defeat his tyranny.

"I now send the army forth to defend the nation. Let all who oppose the Law feel our wrath! UNUS EUROPA!" Grosfrere screams holding his hands above his head.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!" the crowd echoes back to him in one voice.

"UNUS EUROPA!" he screams again even louder.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!"

"UNUS EUROPA!" Grosfrere shouts on final time so loudly his eyes begin to bulge from his skull.

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!" the crowd screams back. They are now in a total frenzy. The camera pans back over to their faces. Some TECs have literally fainted in jubilation.

Suddenly, a quick rhythmic stepping begins.

"What the hell is that?" Doc says finally breaking the silence in the room.

"It almost sounds like…" Tiller says trailing off.

"_Marching Footsteps_…" I say as the camera pans over to a massive ocean of blue. Tens of thousands of TEC soldiers in their faceless armor are marching in perfect lockstep towards "The Heart" in one perfect mass. They goosestep in rhythmic precision down the polished stone street between the crowd and Grosfrere. Though the crowd continues its uproarious jubilation, the soldiers pay no attention to them at all. Instead, they all pay homage to their Supreme Lawgiver, holding their rifles out in salute which Grosfrere returns with the sign of victory.

It is an endless mass, hell bent on destruction. It takes almost twenty minutes for all of them to march by while the TEC narrator extolls the virtue of each and every identical unit in the TEC army. Just as we think the spectacle is coming to an end, the vehicles arrive. Hundreds of tanks grind forward on armored tracks as their long polished cannons gleam in the sun. Each one has a TEC soldier in armor standing in the turret behind a massive machine gun holding his arms up over his head in allegiance to the Supreme Lawgiver. Armored Personnel Carriers are next, each one towing a long artillery piece mounted to a trailer behind it. It is a terrible show of force that is not lost on any of us.

"TURN IT OFF!" Angus screams. He begins to pace violently back and forth across the room. Maggie is stunned at first until Angus screams at her again. "I said turn it off, Maggie. I don't need Grosfrere to tell me how big is military is." He turns to President Holmes' image still on the screen. "I already know!"

"Please, calm down, Chief McFadden," Driva says softly.

"Calm down? Why exactly should I calm down, Madame President?" Angus asks condescendingly.

"Because," I say staring down at the table with quiet fury, "Grosfrere is terrified."

"WHAT?" everyone present exclaims simultaneously.

"Terrified?" Angus asks turning to me. "Terrified, Laddie? Were you even watching the same broadcast as I was?"

"Yes," I say standing to my feet. "What we just saw was the last cry for help from a desperate man."

"Sir, _with all due respect_," Amelia says at me through the screen, "There must have been over a hundred thousand TEC soldiers marching through Germania _with_ tanks and artillery. That hardly looks like desperation to me."

I look down at the stone floor.

"What were the Hunger Games?" I ask calmly to everyone in the room. My only answer is silence. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, people."

"They were a contest…" Doc says somewhat unsure of himself.

"Think bigger than that," I say walking around the table. "What were the Hunger Games?"

"A big spectacle," Amelia says to me. I look over to Angus who seems to be becoming more and more frustrated.

"You're getting closer," I say raising my finger. I turn to Driva. "C'mon Madame President, you lived through so many of them: The Reapings, the forced viewings, the grisly deaths," I say getting more and more excited. "What were the Hunger Games?" President Holmes pauses and then gives the answer I was looking for.

"Control…"

"Exactly!" I shout out. "The Hunger Games were _control_! President Snow knew he didn't have absolute power over the Districts. He knew that they were always just a few short steps away from open rebellion. So, what did he do every year? He put on a giant show to make the country _think_ he held absolute power. He forced the helpless to fight as he and his closest followers held all the cards. They could control the weather, they could control the arena, they could even control who lived and who died… but all it took was _one brave girl_ who refused to play! She would rather die choking on poison berries than give President Snow what he wanted…_submission_. Grosfrere is trying to intimidate us, but with half his country in revolt, he knows that his end is near!"

"That's a beautiful sentiment," Angus finally shouts at me angrily, "but how can you be sure that your little theory is correct, General Snow? Because for all I know, your little rant is just a sign of _your desperation_ at not being able to produce a force large enough to challenge the TEC?"

I pause knowing that I have to pick my words very carefully. I look down at the Mockingjay pin on my shirt and remember my Lizzy's words to me.

"Because," I say turning to look Angus in the eyes, "the blood of a tyrant flows in my veins. It will always be there despite everything I do to fight it. Do you know why I fight it, Angus?"

"No, Laddie. Why?"

"Because I fell in love with someone. I fell in love with a girl on fire. Just like everyone else in Panem did," I say looking to Driva, the old and dedicated rebel. "And then I fell in love with a woman who amazed me every day by her selfless care of everyone around her…and then I fell in love with a little baby who I want to grow up to be his own man, free from fear and terror. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT GROSFRERE IS RIGHT! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT MEN AND WOMEN EXIST ONLY TO SERVE A MASTER!" The brave War Chief looks back at me with his fierce eyes. "I refuse to believe that anyone was born to be a slave. Even if that means I have to die to defend that belief." I then get a response from Angus I never expect. He begins laughing.

"You really are something special, Ares," he says holding out his hand to me. I reach over and give him a firm shake back in friendship. "You're willing to give your life to fight against something that your ancestors held onto with every fiber of their being. You've made yourself stronger than your past. That's why you're my brother, Laddie." Angus lets go of my hand but gets somber again. "I'll fight and die right next you," he says before turning to President Holmes and Amelia on the big screen, "but if something doesn't change soon, that's all any of us will ever do: _die_."


	64. Freedom's Call Chapter 9

I walk through the halls of the Presidential Mansion back in the Capitol, but everything seems different…darker and scarier. The walls of the hallway are lined with massive portraits of Coriolanus in various heroic poses. I hear the familiar sounds of Caesar Flickerman giving the day's wrap up of the arena. I make my way down the hall toward the flickering light of a television set.

I enter a huge room lined with exotic wooden paneling and decorated with mounted animal heads. An antique hand-woven rug lies on the hardwood floor. I scan across the room before freezing in terror as I see President Snow laughing in joy as he sits in his massive leather armchair. He is balancing his most beloved treasure and heir apparent, my sister, on his knee. She is eleven years old and squeals with delight as he describes the images on his giant television screen to her. I look over and see a young Katniss, her face covered in terror, as she dodges fireball after fireball shot at her through the forest.

Suddenly, both Coriolanus and Venus fall silent and turn directly at me. I cannot move as my grandfather's snake-like eyes burn into my soul.

"Oh, there you are, my little Ares," he says condescendingly as if he's speaking to a little child. It's only then that I realize that I _am_ young child, two feet tall and barely able to stand on my wobbly legs. "You know this isn't for you," he says with an evil grin on his face. "This is only for _real _Snows to enjoy." I try to respond to his comment but cannot speak one word. "Well," he says as he and Venus both start laughing uncontrollably. "What do you have to _say_ for yourself?" I realize that my mouth feels strange. I reach inside and instead of my tongue, I feel only jagged scars. I gasp in horror and collapse onto the thick wool of the carpet. Their laughter slices me like a thousand knives as blood starts pouring from my tongue-less mouth. "Don't worry, I know just how to deal with naughty little children like you. Don't you remember your Aunt Medea?" Wherever my blood hits the carpet, a thick blue vapor begins to bubble and rise. Soon, I am enveloped in a burning cloud of Shiver. My tiny legs and arms begin to cramp and writhe. Agonizing pain grips my body and I begin to choke and gag on a mix of blood and saliva. The laughing continues as I start to convulse…

I bolt awake with a stifled scream in my bed at _The Three Foxes_. Sunlight is already streaming in from the window and I catch my breath to the sounds of the Londoners below in the street. I quickly realize that both I and my sheets are soaking wet with sweat. I reluctantly climb to my feet and walk across the cold wooden floor to the washbasin in the corner. I dip my hands in the water and wash the tears and streaks of perspiration away from my face. Obviously, I still haven't quite recovered from the meeting yesterday.

Suddenly, my video terminal starts beeping on the desk.

"_Funny_," I think to myself. "_Lizzy wasn't supposed to call today_." I walk over and accept the call.

"You know, Ares," President Holmes' image says to me as she appears on the screen. "I don't know whether I need to control you more or just keep letting you go on you little rants. That was a very impressive little speech to everyone yesterday." I just look down and mutter:

"Good morning to you too, Madame President. It appears you've caught me at an awkward time."

"So it seems, General," she replies flippantly. "I'm glad to see you're keeping in shape over there." It is only then I realize that I'm still in my underwear. I quickly stand up and grab a shirt and pair of pants off my dresser. "Still having trouble sleeping?" she says with genuine concern but somehow I still find it insulting.

"And just how did you know I was having trouble sleeping?" I ask pulling my legs into my trousers.

"Because as much respect and care I have for you, Ares, I still have a job to do. I wouldn't have let you go on this assignment if I didn't have a clear picture of your mental stability."

"That's a really diplomatic way of saying you've been watching me, isn't it? That shrink who talked to me last year assured me that my sessions would be completely confidential."

"Who said that I used _that_ shrink…" I slam my hand down on the desk as I realize who she's talking about. "Luckily, your wife understands what the phrase 'professional opinion' really means."

"I'll have to have a talk with her…" I say trailing off.

"No, you really don't," President Holmes says to me with blunt seriousness. "She has a job to do just like Sergeant Sawbleyde…oh…I mean Sergeant Hightower. That's still gonna take some getting used to." It all becomes clear to me.

"So, you asked Hatchet to watch over my body and Lizzy to watch over my mind?"

"Yes," President Holmes says. "That's one way of putting it." I open my mouth to say something, but President Holmes cuts me off. "All of us care about you, Ares, just in different ways. Lizzy loves you as her wife, Olivia respects you as her leader, and I…"

"And you?" I say curiously.

"I…" she pauses cautiously as if she isn't sure how much she wants to reveal. "I feel _responsible_ for you. I've watched you grow up from a boy into a man. My government turned you into a weapon, and I couldn't live with myself if I became a president of Panem who destroyed a life because it was advantageous to me." I lean back in my chair and smile.

"Well, thank you, Driva, but I assure you, I don't do this because of my loyalty to you. I consider paying it a personal debt to the nation."

"That's the problem, General. There's something that us old veterans of the Revolution didn't understand. We were so desperate for justice that we didn't realize it wasn't _your_ debt to pay."

"Well, it is now," I say firmly before changing the subject. "Madame President, I don't think you called this morning just for personal revelations. What's up?"

"I just received word. _Three days…_" she says. I nod in understanding.

Three days later I stand with Angus on a cliff overlooking the Welsh coastline. It is a beautiful morning and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below mixes with the breeze rolling through the endless grassy field around us. I look over to Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all reunited again and sitting on an outcropping of rocks laughing and joking with each other.

"You know, Ares, It's very beautiful here, but I hope there's a better reason than a bit of fresh air that you dragged me all the way to bloody Cardiff from London."

"Oh there is," I say before nervously looking down at time on my communicuff. "_They're almost an hour late…_" I think in frustration. "_Not a good start_."

Hatchet walks over and pulls me aside.

"Sir, I thought you said they were coming?" she quietly whispers into my ear.

"_They are_," I reply back. "Just have a little faith."

Suddenly, the communicuff on Angus' wrist comes to life.

"_Sir!_" Maggie screams at Angus from Tower Control in London, "_They're coming right at you! They're requesting to enter our waters. Thousands of them!_" Angus jumps and screams back at Maggie.

"Who do you mean? The TECs?"

"_No Sir, Don't you see them?_"

"See who?" I tap Angus on the shoulder and point out toward the western ocean.

"Remember last year when you said it would take an army to defeat the TECs?"

"Cut the shite, Laddie," Angus says angrily. "What's going on?"

"Look," I say with a huge grin. Angus stares out to the horizon and sees them: dozens of armored warships escorting hundreds of freighters and transports. Angus looks at me in utter shock.

"You mean?"

"_They're here_." The massive fleet stretches from horizon to horizon and steams closer and closer to the British coastline. I see the flagship, bristling with massive cannons, in the lead. I pull out a radio from my pocket. "United Districts of Panem Ship Polaris, This is Mockingjay. I have you in sight. Prepare for rendezvous with the big three on marked beachhead."

"_Mockingjay, this is UDPS Polaris. Acknowledged and awaiting your beacon_."

"Sergeant Hightower!" I shout to the team. They have all climbed to the top of the rock outcropping and are gazing at the gargantuan convoy headed right toward us.

"Which Sergeant Hightower?" Ratchet screams back with a chuckle.

"Which one to do you think, Grease Monkey? Pop the beacon!" Ratchet pulls something out of his backpack and climbs to the tip of the rocks. He points the infrared beacon toward the flagship and hits the switch.

"Polaris, Mockingjay," I say speaking into my radio again. "Beacon is alight. Come down and join us."

"Finally," Hatchet says to us sounding relieved. "I'll have people to talk to that I can actually understand."

"_Roger, we copy the beacon. Big Three en route_."

I pull two pairs of binoculars from a bag at my feet and hand one to Angus. We look out and see a squadron of attack hovercraft lifting into the sky from one of the transport ships. Another transport hovercraft lifts off from the rear deck of the Polaris. Half of the attack hovercraft begin to escort the transport hovercraft while the rest fly straight to the beach. They circle only a few hundred feet over our heads making sure the landing zone is clear. Angus stares up at them, still overcome by amazement.

"I've never seen so many ships and hovercraft in my life…" he stammers. "I didn't even know it was possible."

"Panem answered the call, my friend," I say slapping him on the shoulder. "Now you see why it took so long."

"Aye," is the only response he can muster.

As the transport hovercraft nears the cliffs, one of the escort attack ships breaks away and touches down in the grass a few yards away from us. We lean down and shield our eyes as its powerful engines kick up sand and debris all around us. The transport lands next and both shut down their turbines simultaneously.

The cockpit dome of the attack hovercraft peels open and the pilot climbs down the side of the fuselage to the ground. She pulls off her oxygen mask and helmet and reveals her face. She is an athletic woman in her early forties with jet black hair, deep brown eyes, and olive skin. Her flight suit has golden stars on the epaulets. She walks over the transport as the ramp drops and two more men walk out. One is wearing the black uniform of a UDP rear admiral. The naval service badge on his left jacket pocket, a massive golden Mockingjay perched on a pair of crossed tridents, gleams at us in the sun. His pale skin, red hair, and freckles scream District 4. The other man wears a uniform very similar to my own. I recognize my old friend immediately.

The three of them walk over to me and Angus and salute sharply. I return the gesture with a smile.

"Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle," I say nodding to each one of them individually. "Welcome to Britannia. May I introduce the Chief of the Britannia War Council, Angus McFadden." I gesture to Angus who can do nothing more than stretch out his hand in friendship. I can see this very pleasant surprise has left him speechless and the three of them are a bit confused. "He doesn't talk much," I say with a grin which immediately breaks the tension.  
>"Now, you know that's not true at all, Laddie!" Angus says breaking into joyous laughter. "Welcome to Britannia indeed! Hope you all are ready for a fight."<p>

"Count on it," Brigadier LaSalle says to Angus. "It's good to see you again, Sir," he says turning to me. "I suppose I owe you a 'thank you' for this he says flashing the new ranks on his epaulets to me.

"Well, I may have dropped a few _hints_ to President Holmes over the past few months, but you earned that yourself." He smiles back at me in gratitude.

Air Brigadier Valderoun takes a look around.

"So, this is Britannia?" she says in the soft tones of her District 1 accent. "I've always wanted to see it in person."

"Oh trust me," I say, "_You haven't seen anything yet._"


	65. Freedom's Call Chapter 10

Our fleet has moved around the island of Britannia and is safely at anchor just south-west of London. The TEC air force made a foolhardy attempt to try to disrupt their movement, but Air Brigadier Valderoun's attack hovercraft swatted them like pesky flies. It seems our training methods for our pilots were effective after all.

Now, Tower Control has the true appearance of a command center. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, Tiller, Angus, Seamus, Maggie, Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and myself all huddle around the briefing table among a sea of papers, documents, reports, and maps that is so thick, one cannot see the wooden surface anymore. President Holmes, Amelia, and Gale watch down on us from the screen as they join in the conference from Central Briefing. The last addition to the guest list was not my choice, but Driva insisted that he join us for his experience and expertise. It's a good thing that the fleet brought a huge supply of real coffee with it, because I know it will be a _very_ long night.

"Alright," I say loud enough to cut down the chatter and get everyone's attention. "Let's get down to business to defeat the TECs."

"What?" Hatchet says curiously.

"Could you not hear me, Sergeant?" I say somewhat annoyed.

"No Sir, It's just I got a strange sense of déjà vu when you said that…like I've heard it somewhere before."

"Pshh, Confused Lasses," Seamus says indignantly. "That's what happens when you get sent daughters when you ask for sons." Hatchet, Brigadier Valderoun, President Holmes, Amelia, and Maggie all flash him cutting looks which silence him immediately.

"Please Chief," I say trying to get everyone refocused. "I think we're all past that kind of prejudice here." Seamus the giant slumps back in chair like a whipped puppy. "Ok," I say spreading out a map of Europe on the table in front of me. "I've already mapped out the key TEC defensive positions. We have an army now, so how are we gonna use it?"

"We should attack someplace they would never expect it," Angus says pointing toward the north. "What about Norwegia? Support for Grosfrere is already at an all-time low and his forces are spread thin. We could land in the fjords and gain a strong foothold on the continent."

"True," I say, "But how would we exploit that foothold? The only way to push on the TEC from Norwegia without making another aquatic crossing is to cut across Lapland and through the Cossack Tribal lands. That would be sending our forces hundreds of miles out of their way and if they get bogged down, they could be trapped by the winter. Only an idiot fights in winter on the Russian plains."

"What about an airborne operation?" Air Brigadier Valderoun suggests. "Using the combined British and UDP squadrons, we could drop soldiers right on the edge of Germania. The war could be over in a few weeks."

"A possibility," I say with a bit of skepticism, "but what if it isn't over right away? Our supply lines would instantly be cut and we would have already left behind our most casualty producing weapons."

"And what are those?" Air Brigadier Valderoun asks seemingly a little insulted.

"My tanks," Brigadier LaSalle says turning to her. "That is unless we have the capability to air-lift one thousand tanks, plus fuel and ammunition." Maggie just laughs and shakes her head.

"I doubt we have the capability to airlift ten."

"Exactly," I say disappointed.

"Well then, Sir, what do you suggest?" Admiral Flannigan says looking over to me. I pause and look up to Driva, Amelia, and Gale on the screen.

"I have _no_ idea," I say after an awkward sigh.

"What?" Gale asks angrily. "The man, the myth, and the legend who's spearheaded this fight so far now finally has an army at his disposal and he has no idea what to do with it?" Amelia flashes him a dirty look which he ignores.

"Can we please refrain from comments that are not helpful to the discussion, Mr. Hawthorne?" President Holmes says trying to calm things down.

"Well, _I_ have a suggestion," Gale says proudly.

"Then by all means, make it," I say trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Why don't we just do what worked before?" He says bringing up a large digital map on the screen. "Divide and conquer: drop forces in each of the TEC provinces and have them fight to overthrow Grosfrere's control. Then, once all the TEC has been liberated, we move on Germania."

The rest of us pause to think on Gale's plan. I admit, though I'm not entirely sure of it, I can't think of anything better.

"Well, can anybody think of a better course of action?" I say scanning around the table. I'm met only a bunch of nervous looks. "In that case…"

"_I can_…" a voice finally rings out from the group. I look up to the screen to see Amelia sitting tall in her chair. Gale glares at her, but she turns to him and glares right back.

"You have to stop thinking like a rebel, Mr. Hawthorne," Amelia says trying to retain her nerve. She knows she is the lowest ranking officer in this gathering of the allied titans.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, _Major Flagg_," Gale says indignantly in her direction.

"A very wise teacher once taught me, that you have to use _all_ the resources available to you in order to achieve victory," Amelia says flashing me a look. I grin back just enough so she can see. "If you separate our forces, Grosfrere can still keep his army consolidated and move against the provinces one by one. He'll pick us off until there's no one left. Remember, he has home-field advantage in terms of supply and logistics. No, we have to keep our army together and strike as one."

"Alright, Major," I say still flashing her a grin, "You have my attention."

"Thank you, General Snow," Amelia replies bringing up a different digital map on the screen.

"I suggest we make a landing here," she says focusing on a corner of the map, "right on the northern Francian beaches."

"What?" Gale screams at her. "That's the most obvious course of action. Those beaches will be fortresses!"

"Yes, there's no doubt that Grosfrere will have fortified those beaches," Amelia says still keeping her confidence, "but it's the course of action most likely to give us success. The danger will be in the water crossing. It's where we'll be most vulnerable. If we cross at the Brittanic Channel, it's less than fifty miles of open water where the TEC air force can do damage to us. Then, once we make a landing, it will have the shortest route for our supply lines to follow. Finally, look," Amelia says changing the projection on the digital map. "From northern Francia to Germania is almost a straight line. We can fight in one massive column straight to their capital and _end this war_."

"Very good, Major," I say looking around the room at everyone's approving faces. "I think you've just pitched a successful operation." Amelia smiles back at me.

"Sir," she suddenly interjects. "I have another idea for the operation…if you think you and your team are up for it." I look over to Hatchet who is literally giggling.

"I think we might be…"

"Good," Amelia says bringing up another screen on our display. "Before the TECs severed Ohm's tunnel after the failed missile attack, I was able to download schematics of all of Germania…including 'The Heart.' Everything is routed through the central computer mainframe inside that building: military command and control, the propaganda ministry, the central broadcast network, literally _everything_. If we destroy 'The Heart' then the TECs will be blind. I think organized resistance will collapse and the TEC army will be forced to surrender."

"You _think_?" Gale says condescendingly. "Are you sure enough to risk the lives of General Snow and his men?" Amelia shoots him a look like stone.

"With all due respect, _Mr. Hawthorne_," she says like she was speaking to a cockroach, "I wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't."

The next twelve hours are spent furiously hammering out plans. Finally, as the sun begins to set against the stone walls of the Tower, I think we finally have the operation hammered out.

"Phase one," I begin to summarize the plan for everyone, "will begin with the fleet sailing from Britannia to northern Francia." I use a long wooden stick to point to the locations on a map. "Once they move across the Channel, they will split into three columns and land on these beaches here. Air Brigadier Valderoun, it will be your job along with the British Squadrons to clear the landing beaches and then provide top cover during the actual invasion."

"Understood, Sir."

"Then, I, the Mockingjay team, and General LaSalle will land with the main body on the middle beach and push with our infantry and armor toward this TEC village to the south."

"Worry not, LaSalle," Admiral Flannigan says with a District 4 grin that reminds me of Finnick. "My boys will drop your tanks on that beach so nice and easy you'll think they were taking you to a village dance."

"Good, I like your confidence, Admiral," I say trying to move things along. "We'll use the TEC village as a rallying point. Meanwhile, the highlanders led by Chief Seamus, will land on the western beach here. It will be your job to secure these coastal cliffs here. If we leave them in the hands of the TECs, it will let them have an overwhelming field of artillery fire over all the landing beaches. Are you sure your highlanders are up to it?"

"Aye Laddie," Seamus says back to me. "Worry not, we'll lead the way."

"Alright, finally, the British commandos augmented by Admiral Flannigan's UDP Marines will take these beaches and secure the bridgehead crossings to prevent TEC reinforcements from arriving from the east."

"Always Faithful," Admiral Flannigan says quietly.

"So are we all agreed on the landing?" A huge shout of approval explodes from around the room. "Good…" I say with a pause before moving on to the next phase. "Then, after the beachheads are secure, the Mockingjay team and myself will push inland from the TEC village, make contact with the Francian resistance, and then push to Germania to strike 'The Heart."

"Are you sure about that, General?" President Holmes interrupts. "Destroying 'The Heart' is not mission essential. Do you think that it's worth the risk?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I do. It's too large a tactical victory to ignore. If it means cutting the legs out of Grosfrere's government and saving a lot of lives in the process, it's definitely worth the lives of five soldiers." President Holmes looks in disbelief to Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc, but all of them look to me and nod in agreement.

"So, how are you and your team supposed to get back from Germania, General Snow," Gale asks. "Unless you all intend to hang out in the enemy capital until the end of the war?" I admit, I haven't even thought that far ahead.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, Mr. Hawthorne," I say with a smile which only serves to infuriate him further.

"Yeah," Tiller throws in, "I bet there's something that flies, rolls, or floats in Germania that we can make use of."

"And if it doesn't work, I'll fix it," Ratchet says laughing.

"And if he can't fix it, I'll keep fighting," Hatchet smiles.

"And that means that I'll just have to keep all of them alive until the rest of allies decide to show up," Doc grins. I look to their faces with the deepest sense of gratitude I have ever felt. The rest of the room must think we're insane, but I know that to us, it makes perfect sense. Individually, the members of the Mockingjay team are weak and vulnerable, but together, we are invincible.

"Very well," Driva says. "Then that plan has my blessing, General Snow, as if my blessing mattered to you at all," she grins.

"Oh, your blessing means a lot to me, Ma'am," I reply. "Without it, I feel much more guilty when I go anyway." The entire room bursts into laughter except for Gale who petulantly leans back in his chair. "Alright everybody," I say glancing to everyone around Tower Control. "_The die is cast_. To Victory!" They all look back and reply in unison.

"_To Victory!_"


	66. Freedom's Call Chapter 11

"Can you at least tell me where you're going?" Lizzy asks despondently.

"You know I can't, Babe," I reply with a gloomy face back through the video terminal, "But I think you already know the answer to that question." She leans forward and gives me a forceful nod.

"Yes," she finally manages to get out, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"True."

"Do you at least have some idea when I'll be able to talk to you again?"

"No," I say even more depressed sounding. There's no point in sugar-coating it for her.

"Well, Ares," Lizzy says sarcastically, "you sure know how to make me feel better."

"What do you want me to say, Liz? That I'm going on a 'business trip?' That you shouldn't worry and I'll be home soon?"

"No, of course not…"

"Then what?" I'm becoming increasingly frustrated but luckily Lizzy's professional instincts take over.

"Ok_, time out_," she says in that annoying motherly tone of hers that even though it drives me insane, I always seem to listen to. "Just what the hell is bothering you?" I pause and look away for a second, but soon give in.

"I talked to Driva a few days ago…"

"Ah," Lizzy says with understanding eyes, "and I bet she told you a few things about her and me that you didn't want to hear…"

"How could you, Elizabeth?" I say sounding genuinely betrayed.

"_How could_ _I_?" Lizzy asks indignantly.

"Yes, the things that I told you were _private_. Do you understand that? You're not supposed to be my therapist, and you're sure as hell not supposed to be a spy for my boss!"

"You see, Ares, that's where you're wrong."

"What?"

"I_ am_ your therapist. I'm your wife, that's what I do. The fact that I have a degree in Clinical Psychology is beside the point. I cannot tell you how many times in the eight years I've been your other half that I've listened to your problems, heard your complaints, and then helped you through your issues, but I'm happy to do it! I love you, you crazy man. I'll keep being your shoulder to cry on from now until the day I die. I'm pretty sure that was in the fine print when I said, 'I do."

"But what about talking to the President about me? What about that whole 'sworn to secrecy' thing?" Lizzy looks away for a brief second, wets her lips, and then shakes her head in frustration.

"_That_ was something I had to think long and hard about…"

"Can you at least tell me why you did it?"

"Because I knew it would be what you wanted…"

"_Excuse me_?" I say in angry disbelief.

"Ares, before you jump to conclusions, you might want to make sure you have all the facts."

"Well, how can I unless you tell them to me?"

"How much did President Holmes tell you about our conversations?"

"She told me that you gave her your 'professional opinion' of me."

"And?"

"And that's it," I say succinctly.

"Did she tell you that she was going to force you to retire?" Lizzy says looking me in the face.

"What?" I say more than a little appalled.

"President Holmes thought that you had been through too much trauma after Ohm's Games on the island. Right after Octavian was born, she called me to ask if you could handle the stress of still being an officer because her instincts said that she should force you to accept a severance package so that you could live the rest of your life in peace with your family.

She asked me what difficulties you were having readjusting and I talked to her about the nightmares and the post-traumatic stress. However, I knew that if I didn't recommend to her that you stay in the service, you would wither away into a shell of yourself and cease to be the man I love. So, I told her that, in my experience, insomnia and traumatic recall were normal side-effects of combat situations and that if she really cared about you, she would not only let you keep your job, she would keep giving you more responsibility.

That's when she brought General Sturm on the line and the _three_ of us agreed that you should be the next Chief of the Defense Forces when Sturm decided to retire. So, yes, I told Driva more than I should have about you, but I don't think you'd be any happier if I hadn't."

"Oh my God," I say suddenly filled with guilt and remorse. "You told them all that knowing that I would be away from you so much?"

"Well, unfortunately I cannot say with absolute certainty that my answer would have been the same if I had known that a war was imminent, but I'd like to think that it would have been," she says with a coy grin.

"Why didn't you ever say anything to me about this before?"

"Because, Ares," she says leaning close to the screen. "I know you're a proud man, and you'd have never taken the promotion had you known your wife got it for you." I start laughing hysterically. "Well, am I right?" I look down humiliated and nod my head in agreement. "That's what I thought."

Finally, I build back enough resolve to look her in the face again.

"I love you so much," I say reaching up and touching the screen of the terminal.

"I know," Lizzy says softly as she reaches up and touches her screen as well. "I love you, too." She pauses for a second, but then I see the firm resolve return to her shoulders. "Now, go! Go and do what you love to do so you can get this damn war over with and you can come back to us to be a husband and a father. I'm getting really sick of this single parent routine," Lizzy says with a steady but loving tone in her voice. I crack a grin as well.

"Well, you have Finnick don't you?" I say somewhat dryly.

"Please," Lizzy replies shaking her head. "He's nothing more than a glorified baby-sitter. There are certain things that a girl _needs_ her husband for," Lizzy says pointing down at herself. The tone in her voice says it all.

"Oh, God, _I know_," mirroring her frustrated voice. "Let's just say I hope you're ready to have another kid when I get back."

"Doesn't the person who has to carry the thing get a say in that?" she says flashing me a look. I just stare right back at her. Her fake bravado collapses into a sweet mess. "Yeah," she finally says, "I really want a little _Katniss_ as well…"

"We'll have her soon enough…" I say trailing off softly. "Say, speaking of kids, where's the little guy?" I ask. "I want to say goodbye to him too."

"He's out on the porch. Hold on a sec." Lizzy gets up from her chair and walks outside of the cottage. She returns a few moments later hauling Octavian in her arms. I'm always amazed every time I see him how big he's getting. I think he must have almost tripled in size since I kissed him goodbye on that train platform almost a year and a half ago. Lizzy collapses back down in her chair with Octavian in her lap. "Whew," she says letting out a tired gasp, "You, my little man, are getting heavy." I am speechless as I stare at him. He's carrying a brown, fuzzy teddy-bear clutched in his arms. He stares back at the screen with the huge, beautiful sea-green eyes of his mother, but I am taken aback by one simple fact: _my son looks like me_. "Do you wanna say 'hi' to daddy?" Lizzy asks Octavian.

"Hi, buddy," I say waving at the screen.

"Hello," Octavian replies a little shyly. He knows me now that he's a little older, but still sometimes acts like I'm still a stranger. I've accepted this painful fact, but anything he says to me is still like music to my ears.

"Who have you got there?" I ask pointing at the teddy bear. The question loosens up Octavian a little.

"Toby," he says back in my direction still looking at me with his gorgeous eyes.

"Toby?" I say with a smile. "Where did he come from?"

"Uncle Finnick gave him to me."

"He did?" I say with over-exaggerated surprise.

"Finnick gave him Toby after Octavian caught his first fish," Lizzy says with a proud smile.

"You caught your first fish?" I say excitedly. Octavian nods with a delighted sense of accomplishment.

"Do you wanna show daddy how big your first fish was?" Lizzy says down to him. Octavian immediately stretches his arms out as wide as they will go.

"He was really that big?" I say still unable to stop beaming from happiness.

"Uh huh," Octavian says.

"He's quite the little angler," Lizzy says bouncing him a bit on her knee.

"Of course he is," I say. "He's half Odair." Lizzy grins. Unfortunately, I know that I have to say goodbye to him again and it's killing me. "Hey buddy," I say gazing right at Octavian again. "I want you to know that Daddy really loves you, and he's thinking about you every day, but he's gonna not be able to talk to you for a while."

"Why not?" Octavian says more curiously than sadly.

"Well, has Mommy talked to you about the bad guys?" I ask hopefully. Octavian nods his head. "The bad guys are starting some trouble again, and Daddy has to go to another place to stop them."

"Will you be back soon?" he asks to me. I'd like to tell him yes, but I just can't lie to those eyes.

"I _hope_ so, buddy. But there's a lot of bad guys. It could take me some time."

"Are you gonna be safe?"

"_Damn_," I think to myself. "_Why does he have to be so smart?" _I turn back to Octavian. "I'm gonna be as safe as I can, but what I do is a little dangerous. That's why I have to be so far away from you and Mommy so that you don't get put at risk." Octavian just gets a skeptical look on his face. He knows that Lizzy and I are keeping something big from him, but he doesn't yet know enough about the world to figure it out. As I see the wheels turn in his head, I can tell he's very frustrated.

"You've been fighting the bad guys a long time," Octavian says giving me a stern look.

"Yes, buddy, I have."

"So, you know what they're like?"

"I think so," I say not sure where he's going with this.

"Then, it's like when I caught my fish. If you know what they're like, then just do what you know will work." Lizzy and I are literally knocked dumbstruck. Our son isn't even three years old yet and he's lecturing a General on military strategy….more importantly, _he's right_.

"That's really good advice, buddy. I'll remember that," I pause as I feel my eyes start to burn. "You be sure to keep being a good boy for your mom and Uncle Finnick, ok?"

"Ok," he says back to me with a hint of a smile on his little face.

"I love you so much, Octavian, and I'll be home with you and Mommy as fast as I can."

"I love you too, Daddy, you don't get hurt fighting the bad guys." _That's it_, I lose all self-control and start blubbering. I think it's the first time Octavian has ever said "I love you, Daddy," right to my face. "Daddy?" Octavian asks concerned. "Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

"No, buddy," I choke through my tears. I do my best to wipe my eyes but the streams keep pouring out. As if on cue, Lizzy holds Octavian up to her screen. I lean forward and kiss my side of the glass as hard as I can. When I finally pull back, I look my son right in his perfect face. "_Believe me, I've never been happier_."


	67. Freedom's Call Chapter 12

"_This is it_," I think to myself as I push myself forward in my hovercraft seat. I look down the troop compartment to see Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc, uncharacteristically uncomfortable in full battle gear as we prepare to rendezvous with the fleet before it departs to Francia. Hatchet fidgets in her vest and mutters something to herself about how body armor was never designed for a woman with her "sweet chest" (Hatchet's words, not mine) while the rest of the team plays with their helmet straps.

"The gear is only temporary," I assured them after I gave the order to put it on for the landings. "We'll be landing on the beach in the first wave and cannot appear any different than a common soldier. Once we leave for Germania, it gets left behind and we'll pick up more ammo instead." It was a simple answer that allayed their concerns about hauling fifty pounds of dead-weight across the TEC countryside. I was more concerned about needing the extra ammo.

Angus sits beside me in the hovercraft. He has luckily avoided the curse of full battle rattle as he will be leaving us as soon as the fleet departs. He is here solely for moral support. _I_ will be in command of the task force as soon as it leaves Brittanic soil. Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and Seamus left London yesterday to make final preparations with their units before we leave. The Mockingjay team will not be on the ground long, as soon as we land at the ships, _we'll sail_.

"Nervous Laddie?" Angus shouts over the noise of the hovercraft's turbines.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" I respond rather flippantly.

"No, why?"

"Because any sane person should be scared out of their mind right now…._myself included_."

"You scared?" Angus asks with a hint of surprise.

"Oh, don't mind him, Chief," Hatchet says joining in our exchange. "He always talks about how much he's terrified before we go into action, but always acts like a stupid fool once we get on the ground."

"Thank you, Sergeant Hightower," I say as Angus laughs. Certainly, we've been on TEC soil before. I can't even remember the number of raids we've conducted since this war began, but this one will be different. _This isn't a raid_. It is an invasion that will decide the course of everything we've fought for.

"_Sir_," the pilot shouts over the intercom. "_We're approaching the harbor. They've set up a landing zone for us_."

"Alright," I say reaching up and grabbing the microphone. "Take us down for a landing."

"_Roger, Sir_," he replies.

"This is it, boys and girls," I yell to everyone in the crew compartment. "Next, stop is the gorgeous, land-mined beaches of the Trans-European Commonwealth."

"Everybody's favorite vacation spot," Tiller mutters under his breath.

The pilot begins a final, tight circle as he prepares us for landing. The rays of the afternoon sun are just starting to grow orange outside of the windows. We will cross the Channel in darkness, and then hit the beaches in the morning. I look down out of a port-hole to see thousands upon thousands of our soldiers, all armed to the teeth and ready for action. They stand in massive formations in front of their transport ships, awaiting the final order to climb aboard.

"_We're ready_," I think to myself as I marvel at the sheer magnitude of what we are about to do. "_We're gonna do this. We're actually gonna do this_."

The ship breaks into a sharp hover and then drops directly to the ground. We all climb to our feet as the ramp drops and then step outside onto the rocky soil of this place that Angus calls Southhampton. I look around to the coast and see the massive gray steel silhouettes of our fleet, blotting out the sky. The UDPS Polaris, Admiral Flannigan's flagship, lies at anchor just behind our landing zone.

"Alright," I say shouting the rest of the Mockingjay team, "That's our ride."

"That is a big son of a b…." Ratchet says marveling at the four gigantic steel turrets at the front and rear of the Polaris, each bristling with three massive sixteen inch diameter naval cannons. Each one of those things has a steel barrel larger than a tree-trunk and can throw a high-explosive shell weighing as much as a car almost thirty miles. You _do not_ want to be at the business end of one of those things when it goes off.

I grab my gear and begin to walk toward the gangway of the ship when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, Laddie?" Angus says.

"Um, to my ship," I reply rather confused.

"Not yet you're not," he says gesturing to a large wooden platform that has been hastily erected in front of the Polaris. "We've got to address the troops first."

"Oh no," I say dropping my gear and violently shaking my arms back and forth. "I am _not_ a public speaker."

"Those little oratories you keep performing in the Council Chamber and Tower Control beg to differ. Come now, these boys and girls deserve to hear some words of encouragement from their leaders before they go into action."

Angus drags me over to the platform and gives the signal to a few waiting officers. In a few minutes, the entire invasion force is standing in front of us. Out of nowhere, someone produces a microphone and hands it to Angus.

He immediately begins speaking with the rehearsed eloquence of a (not to sound insulting to him) _career politician_. He goes on and on about the meaning of sacrifice, honor, and what victory will mean to the allied countries. To be honest, I don't really hear what he's saying. My mind is lost among the tens of thousands of faces staring back at us. All I see time and time again is a mixture of utter excitement and sheer terror. _Tens of thousands_, all feeling exactly what I am at the same moment.

Finally, Angus falls silent and hands the microphone to me. He covers the end with his hand and whispers in my ear:

"It's all you now, Laddie. Got 'em nice and warmed up for you." I absent-mindedly take the microphone from him and stand before the sea of people. I think of how imposing I must look, standing here, in full battle armor, with a battleship at my back. I wonder if this is how Grosfrere felt when he was addressing the TECs at the parade last week. Then, my mind drifts to another thought that I find even more repugnant:

_"I wonder if this is how Coriolanus felt when he was addressing the people of Panem. Thousands upon thousands who live and die at my command."_

No, I push those narcissistic visions of grandeur out of my mind. This day is not about me. It is about the scared soldiers, sailors, and airmen standing in front of me. If there is any glory after this day, it will belong to them and _to them alone_.

Slowly, I raise the microphone to my lips and begin to speak:

"I am General Ares Snow," the words boom around the harbor carried by the power of a hundred speakers. "Very rarely in our lives, we can tell ourselves that we are about to become a part of history. Today is one of those treasured days," I say starting to pace back and forth across the wooden platform. Something from deep down inside me clicks. I go from being horribly uncomfortable to firmly resolute. The words I speak no longer come from my head, but from my heart instead. "History tells us that there was once a time, centuries ago, when the world lived in freedom. It was a world where no one lived in fear of being executed for their political beliefs. It was a world where people didn't starve and die on the streets from hunger. It was a world where disease could be cured by the right medicine or the right doctor instead of only by prayer and superstition.

But one day, long ago, and for reasons long since forgotten, and ancestors turned their back on what blessings were bestowed upon them. They chose to live for greed. They chose to grow fat and lazy by feasting on the blood of each other, and then touched off a firestorm that consumed them all. The world of progress and plenty was lost in an instant of foolish and violent arrogance…

The few who emerged from the ashes were faced with a choice: live a harsh and independent life without hope of relief or comfort, or submit themselves to the iron-fisted rule of evil men. _Ten generations_….TEN GENERATIONS of Panem lived in slavery before we finally united together to bring an end to the oppression." I look down at the Mockingjay pin, now firmly attached to the outside of my armor and draw strength and resolve from my memories of Katniss. Then I look to Angus, grinning with approval as I begin to reach a crescendo. "And to you, our Brittanic allies, ten generations of your forefathers have suffered through privation and misery to keep yourselves free from the whims of those who believe that men and women simply exist to serve their own ceaseless desire for conquest and avarice.

Right on the other side of this narrow strip of water," I say pointing south across the channel, "innocent people are starting to realize what all of us here already know: It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees. They are willing to suffer and die for the slim chance that maybe their children will live in a world different than their own: a world of hope and dreams rather than one filled with fear and suspicious doubt. They cry out for someone to come and help them in their noblest of struggles, but until now, their cries have fallen on deaf ears.

But today, on this glorious day of days, we have a chance to do something incredible. We have the chance to go forward, and tell those who would see us as slaves…that free men and women will no longer accept a meager existence of pitiful safety in exchange for the very liberties that make them human in the first place! No! We will go forward and show the tyrants who still exist in our world that they may separate us from those we love, they may wound us, they may even kill us, but they will never take away the thing that we have learned to treasure the most: Our freedom!"

A huge cheer erupts from the entire crowd. I feel that I might have reached them.

"Warriors of this noble force of liberation, let's climb onboard our ships and our hovercraft, and do what we've prepared to do for so many hard and difficult months. _LET'S FIGHT!"_ Another tremendous shout erupts from everyone present. An officer appears and I hand the microphone back to him.

Officers and sergeants begin to wrangle the huge formations in front of us toward their transports. Angus walks over for one last handshake before we separate.

"You see, Laddie, I knew you had it in you," he says with a sly grin. I just quietly laugh and give him a firm embrace.

"Take care of yourself, old friend."

"Don't worry, boyo, you'll see me again soon." I look as he disappears for one last time into the crowd. Finally, I gather the courage to walk down from the platform, grab my gear, and make my way over to the Mockingjay team. They've already assembled at the base of the gangplank to the Polaris.

"Some real good words, Sir," Doc says smiling at me.

"Sir," Ratchet says getting my attention. "I know that it may sound kinda stupid coming from me, but I really mean this when I say it: It's an honor to serve with a man like you."

"Hell yeah, Sir," Tiller echoes. I look around and see them all looking at me with genuine respect and gratitude.

"Thank you all," I say doing my best to hold back my emotions. "When this is all over, you'll always have a place in my family."

Then, something catches my eye. I look over to Hatchet and see her uncomfortably staring down at the ground.

"Hatch…" I say with a grin. "Are you crying?"

"What? Me crying?" she says trying to keep her voice steady. Then, she strategically wipes her face on her sleeve as she picks up her gear and moves toward the gangplank. "Of course I'm not crying Sir!" she says starting to climb aboard the Polaris. _"Let's go kill some people!"_


	68. Freedom's Call Chapter 13

We climb aboard the Polaris, make our way to the bridge, and find Rear Admiral Flannigan already in action. He commands a group of young sailors with the assistance of a grizzled old Master Chief Petty Officer whose face has been weathered by decades of salt air and ocean sun. Covered in nautical tattoos from head to toe, he is obviously from District 4 as well. In fact, as I look around to the entire crew of the Polaris, I think they all might be from District 4. They are an army of sea dogs with the ocean in their blood and ready to command the waves for Panem.

"ATTENTION ON DECK," a young ensign shouts as I step onto the bridge.

"Carry on," I shout back as I step inside the armored compartment that is littered with computer controls and displays. Immediately, the sailors go back to their tasks at hand. There is only one thing in this modern war machine that hearkens back to the days of ancient sail that are so treasured by sailors from my wife's District: the ship's wheel is made only of polished wood and brass and is a beautiful reminder of days long past.

I walk up to Admiral Flannigan with the rest of my team in trail. He stands in front of a bank of armored glass windows that look out to the massive gun turrets and then to the bow of the mighty vessel.

"Permission to come aboard, Admiral," I say out of respect for naval tradition…or naval tradition to the best of my recollection.

"It's a little late for that, Sir," he says with a quiet chuckle. "You're already aboard." Hatchet and the rest of the Mockingjays laugh quietly behind me. Despite my embarrassment, I don't let this slight breach of protocol dissuade me. "Are we ready?" Flannigan just looks at me with a smile.

"With your word, Sir."

"The word is given," I say grinning right back.

"Master Chief of the Boat!" Admiral Flannigan shouts with a deep authority in his voice.

"Aye Sir!" the Master Chief shouts back with the deep accent of District 4 that I recognize from my in-laws.

"Raise the colors and signal the rest of the fleet to respond in sequence once they are loaded and ready to sail."

"Aye Aye, Sir," the Master Chief says before he begins to scream commands at everyone else on the bridge. The ensign who signaled my arrival walks over to a case in the corner and removes a giant flag. With the help of several other sailors, he takes it outside the bridge, hooks it to a series of ropes, and begins to hoist it high into the air. The wind begins to catch it and the banner begins to flutter in the breeze. I gasp to catch my breath as I see the Admiral's colors for the first time close up. They are identical to the national flag of the UDP with one key exception: this Mockingjay is not a bird of peace at all. It flies on brilliant gold wings in front of the circle of thirteen stars, a fierce snarl in its eyes and on its beak, and it is perched on the same crossed tridents that decorate every sailor's uniform. The message is clear: this is a warship of the United Districts of Panem, and all who oppose it will feel its wrath.

One by one, each of the other ships of the fleet signal that their soldiers and equipment are loaded and they are ready to depart.

"Sir," Admiral Flannigan says to me once the final radio transmission is received. I feel very strange that he is asking for permission from a ground pounder like me to act on his own ship, but his professionalism is absolute. "The fleet is ready to sail to Francia at your command." I look back to him and give him only a resilient nod of my head. "Master Chief of the Boat, weigh port and starboard anchors. Signal the fleet to do the same."

"Aye Aye Sir! Alright you worthless scallywags," the Master Chief says with a snarl that would make even an angry grizzly bear jump. "You heard the Admiral, we sail for the TEC! This is the flagship of Panem, start acting like it you slimy pieces of…." As the Master Chief continues his rant, Admiral Flannigan motions for me to join him on the observation deck outside of the bridge. It is then I witness a feet of teamwork that has gone unchanged for countless centuries.

On the bow of the ship in front of us, a hundred sailors appear from nowhere. A burly petty officer appears and stands between the two giant capstans that hold the massive forward anchor chains of the ship. Fifty sailors take their places along the chains and do something that I have never seen before: _they start to sing_.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_ the petty officer begins.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_ the hundred sailors sing in answer. The capstans begin to turn, hauling in the chains and hundred ton metal anchors that secure the Polaris to the British seabed.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

_ "Old Cory Snow was President before the Revolution!"_ the petty officer continues.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_ the sailors reply as they begin to guide the anchor chains back onto their reels.

_"But then he died a laughing and it spoiled his constitution!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"They've been doing it this way since the time of their grandfather's grandfather. It doesn't matter if it's a steel warship the size of a Capitol Skyscraper or a three-masted fishing schooner. To us District 4 folk, a ship's a ship." Admiral Flannigan whispers to me. I say nothing as I marvel at the beautiful display of teamwork.

_"When I was a little boy, me mother she told me!"_

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "That if I went I kissed the girls, my lips would turn all moldy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"This is it, Patrick," I whisper to Admiral Flannigan as the anchors emerge from the water.

_"Once I had a girl from 12 as sweet as sugar candy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "I lost her to a Capitol man dressed just like a dandy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

"What do you mean by that, Sir?" Flannigan says.

_"And then I had a District 1 and she was fat and lazy!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "But then I got a 4__th__ District girl and she damn near drove me crazy!"_

I find myself laughing with joy at this last line.

"With men and women like this…men and women who live for the freedom to proudly be who they are…" I say gazing down at the sailors beneath us and then out around to the ships of the fleet. "We can't be defeated…_by anyone_." Flannigan just grins and we look back down to the bow.

_"Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem!"_

_ "Weigh! Haul aweigh! We haul aweigh for Panem-O!"_

The massive anchors finally come to a rest on the deck, the turbines of the Polaris' mighty engines roar to life. As the sea around us churns with the mighty force of our propellers, we slowly pull out to the channel.

The sun sets into darkness and since there is absolutely no chance of any of us getting sleep that night, Admiral Flannigan offers me and the rest of the Mockingjay team a tour of the ship. However, as soon as we start heading down the ladder to the inside of the vessel, I look over to Hatchet and notice that she appears a bit wobbly.

"Hatch, seriously, are you alright? You're looking a little green." I say with concern.

"I'm fine, Sir," she says gripping the metal handrail tightly.

"You don't look fine, Sergeant."

"Ah, it's alright, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says slapping her on the back. "The landlubber just needs to get her sea legs under her." However, that pat on the back must have done something because before Hatchet can say anything in response, she covers her mouth with her hand and bolts outside to the railing. As we hear the sounds of her wretching over the side, Ratchet just rolls his eyes and turns to the rest of the group.

"It's alright, Gentlemen. I've got her. You all go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" Doc says. "I've got plenty of stuff in my medical kit that can help her out."

"No, no," Ratchet says waving his hand. "You know, Hatchet. She wouldn't take anything. She's too 'hardcore" he says while making air quotes with his fingers. He walks outside to find his wife.

"The funny thing is," he mutters back to us before he heads out the hatch, "I'm usually the one who gets motion sick, _not her_."

Admiral Flannigan leads the rest of us through the halls and passageways of the Polaris' massive structure. We see her engine room with its deafening turbines spinning with the force of several-hundred thousand horse-power, the crew quarters with berths for the thousand-man crew, the inside of the gun turrets large enough to fit five tanks in each one, and then our final stop: the magazine. We all marvel at the row upon row of shells, each larger than the size of a man (except maybe for Seamus).

"The big guns really fire these things?" Doc asks in disbelief as he gazes at steel shell in the racks.

"Yup," Admiral Flannigan replies with more than a little sense of pride in the combat power of his vessel. "We call them 'swimming pool makers' for obvious reasons," he says with a devious grin. Something then catches my eye at the bottom of the five story tall magazine: a neat row of twelve shells all covered with messages written in white paint.

"What are those for?" I ask curiously.

"I was hoping you'd ask that, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says. "Come with me." He leads us down a series of dark cramped ladders to the base of the magazine. I can tell that we must be a _long_ way below the waterline down here. I examine the tremendous shells more closely and realize that the writing is _names_, each one with a special message to the TEC:

_"Avenge District 2."_

_"Anchors Aweigh, TEC boys."_

_"Full Speed Ahead."_

"These are the first broadside that will be fired onto TEC soil," the Admiral says grabbing the nose of the shell closest to him. "The entire crew signed them as a special little treat for the enemy." He gestures to a crewman nearby who produces a pot of white paint and a brush. "And I thought it would be even more special if the Mockingjay himself signed one as well." He passes me the brush and I pause for a second.

"Yes," I say trying to come up with the appropriate message, "but only if we all get to sign them."

"Of course," Admiral Flannigan says with a gracious gesture of his hand. Doc writes a quick dedication to all lives lost in the war while Tiller mentions his friends who were among those captured from District 6. Hatchet and Ratchet finally find us and make their creative additions to the ordinance as well. Finally, I decide on what I want to write, and just as I've finished with the brush, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker system that sends all the sailors in the compartment into furious action:

_"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands, Man your battlestations!"_

"What does that mean?" I ask Admiral Flannigan.

"General Quarters," he says with a mix of excitement and concern. "It lets the men know to get ready for action." He looks down to the time on his communicuff and grins from ear to ear. "Right on schedule. We're in sight of Francia."

The Mockingjay team and I make a dash for the ladders with Admiral Flannigan. Our place will be on the bridge. As I climb toward the top of the compartment, I take one last look down the shells and see my message that will soon be launched faster than the speed of sound right at the heart of our enemy.

_"To Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere: I'm looking forward to meeting you in person. Sincerely, the God of War."_


	69. Freedom's Call Chapter 14

The sun's rays are just beginning to light the overcast sky as we reach the bridge. Admiral Flannigan walks out to the observation deck to join the Master Chief and the rest of us follow.

"Weather's moving in, Sir," the Master Chief says handing the Admiral and myself each a pair of binoculars. I look around and see that the fleet has already broken into its three assault groups. Our target beach is straight ahead.

"Yes indeed," Admiral Flannigan says looking at the distant coastline of Francia. _"It's going to make the ride for the grunts in those little landing craft a little more entertaining."_

"Great," I hear Hatchet say behind me. "_Just what I need: a rougher ride_."

"Really, Sergeant Hightower? With everything you've been through you're worried about rough seas?" Tiller says back to her.

"There's a reason I'm not in the navy…" she replies acerbically. I place my binoculars to my eyes. At this range, I can barely make out the dense clusters of obstacles and bunkers that Grosfrere's troops have placed to block our landings.

"Are those going to be a problem for you?" I ask without taking my eyes off of the beach.

"_Ha_," Admiral Flannigan says with an indignant laugh. "Didn't you see the size of those shells down there?"

"Yes," I reply seriously, "but if I'm going in with the infantry, I want to be absolutely sure."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you that it's going to be a walk in the park when you hit the beach, but we'll definitely be able to soften them up for you…Master Chief of the Boat,"

"Aye Sir?'

"Come about to port, set course 090 degrees."

"090 degrees, Aye Aye, Sir!" The Master Chief yells back. Suddenly, the ship turns hard to the left and exposes its broadside to the coast line. As if on cue, the massive turrets of the Polaris all swing in unison over the side of the ship to face the landing site. I look out and see the rest of the warships of the fleet have turned with us while the transports have assembled to our rear in preparation to launch their landing craft. The TECs on the beach now find themselves staring at the muzzles of a hundred heavy cannons.

"Signal the fleet. Bombardment commences at my command," Admiral Flannigan says with steely resolve.

"Aye Aye Sir!" another sailor echoes back. I look through my binoculars again and see a quick series of flashes from the beach.

"Incoming!" I shout as I prepare to dive for the deck. The rest of the Mockingjay team moves with me, but the crew of the Polaris doesn't budge.

"Relax, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says without a flinch. "Coastal artillery…we're well out of their effective range." A mile in front of us, a dozen TEC shells splash harmlessly into the surf. One stray round finds its mark on the side of the Polaris but bounces off like a pebble on a concrete sidewalk. "They weren't expecting us to bring the real heavy stuff…"

"_You could have told us that, Sir_" Hatchet says annoyed as she climbs back to her feet.

"Sorry, Sergeant. It slipped my mind."

"Sir!" the Master Chief says listening into an earpiece. "All turrets report loaded and ready."

"Roger, Master Chief," Admiral Flannigan says spotting the targets with his binoculars. "_Standby._" I see another grin creep across his face. A sailor appears from the bridge and begins to pass out ear muffs. Admiral Flannigan and the Master Chief readily accept them but I pause when the sailor comes to me.

"Really?" I say somewhat bemusedly. "I've been listening to tanks fire my entire adult life."

"Trust me, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says tightly fitting the muffs over his ears. "When those guns go off, you'll want them. During sea-trials, the muzzle blast caused three sailors caught on deck to go stone deaf. Took two surgeries for them to even get back half their hearing." When the team and I see the grizzled old Master Chief putting his on, we exchange worried glances and do the same.

"You talked about being a part of history, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says to me.

"I did."

"Well, a battleship hasn't fired its heavy guns in anger in over five-hundred years…and I can't believe it's under my command."

"Enjoy it, Admiral."

"I intend to, Sir. Master Chief of the Boat…"

"Aye Sir?"

_"Commence Firing."_

An alarm echoes through the ship and I look through my binoculars at the beach fifteen miles away. Suddenly, a huge jet of flame engulfs the entire side of the Polaris. The world turns to slow motion as the entire mass of the ship lurches back fifty feet. I am slammed off my feet and collapse to the deck below as the air is literally sucked from my lungs. It takes a few seconds for me to regain my bearings and I realize that my ears are ringing loudly inside my muffs.

"Have we been hit!" I manage to shout out as I grab the railing and hoist myself to my feet. I look back to Admiral Flannigan and the Master Chief as a thick cloud of black smoke clears around us. They are standing unmoved, still staring straight at the beach through their binoculars.

"Negative, Sir," Admiral Flannigan says grinning from ear to ear. "THAT was a broadside."

"Prepare for Impact," the Master Chief says looking over the side. I quickly put my binoculars back to my face and see my shell along with the eleven others slam into the beach and send the twisted steel and concrete remains of TEC bunkers and obstacles hundreds of feet into the air. More explosions echo through my still ringing ears and I realize that the rest of the fleet has joined in the barrage.

"Sir," the Master Chief says listening in his earpiece again. "Turrets standing by."

"Already?" Ratchet screams to the rest of us.

"Our gun crews are well drilled, Sergeant. _Fire at will_, Master Chief."

"Aye Aye, Sir!"

The alarms echo through the ship once more and I place my hands tightly over my earmuffs to block out the imminent blast. The shockwave and fire rocks the ship again but I manage to brace myself against the railing this time.

"Holy s…!" Tiller exclaims as he recovers from the second broadside.

"A little bigger than your tank, huh, Sir?" Admiral Flannigan says with a chuckle.

"A little," I manage to yell out as my jumbled internal organs still reel from the blow. I look up to Admiral Flannigan's Mockingjay Flag, still flying proudly among the clouds of smoke from the big guns. A smile creeps across my face as the thought rushes through my brain:

"_This bird has sharp talons." _

And so, the bombardment continues for an hour. The TEC positions are given a tremendous wallop, but I'm not naïve enough to believe that they won't regroup before we hit the beaches.

"Sir," Admiral Flannigan says as the fleet fires its final rounds. "_It's time_."

"Alright," I say turning to the Mockingjay team. "The Navy's had enough fun. It's time to get in this war and show them what the Army can do."

"Yes Sir!" Hatchet exclaims as she fastens her helmet strap across her chin. "Alright, you heard the General! It's time for our little day at the beach!"

We grab our weapons and head for the aft deck of the Polaris. The marine detachment from the ship has already prepped our landing craft and lowers it on a set of winches to the surf below. The weather front we spotted earlier has moved in and causes the small, open aired boat to bob violently on the waves.

"Well, this is gonna be fun," Doc says when he sees how violently the craft is rolling below us. The marines throw a rope cargo net over the side for us to use as a ladder. They begin to climb over the stern and down to the waiting vessel below.

"_Don't be such a woman_," Hatchet says to him as she fastens her rifle to her back and climbs over the railing to the net.

"But…but…she said earlier," Doc stammers back as Ratchet pats him on the shoulder.

"It's best not to think too hard about it, Doc. That's what I have to do now that she's my wife," Ratchet says following right after his better half.

"You heard the Sergeant," Tiller says making his way over the side.

"And Roger that," Doc mutters as he begins his descent as well.

I chuckle a bit as I sling my assault rifle and tighten my helmet on my head. Just before I grip the tight hemp of the rope net, I hear a voice shout out from behind me:

"Sir!" It's Admiral Flannigan. I turn around to face him. He presents me with a sharp salute which I return before he reaches out his hand.

"It was a pleasure, Admiral," I say looking him in the eyes and shaking back.

"The same, Sir," he says cracking a smile. "Good luck on the beach and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"In case I don't see you again," I reply as my mind drifts toward an inevitable possibility I don't really want to think about, "Take care of yourself and your ship."

"Always, Sir. When this whole thing is over, I hope you'll let me take her to the Pacific and take care of that pirate problem from the Nippon Shogunate." I burst out into laughter. I really do admire this man. He wants to fight forever.

"You really are a salty dog, aren't you? Let's take it one step at a time there, Admiral," I say. "_But we'll see_."

"Aye, Sir," he says with a grin.

I turn away and climb down onto the cargo netting. As I slowly lower myself down, the wind and salty spray rock the ropes, slamming me up and down against the slick wet steel of the hull.

"Be careful, Sir!" I hear Hatchet scream from below. "Don't let go and time your drop!" I look down to see that the rough seas are causing the deck of the landing craft to rise and fall almost ten feet with the crest of every wave. With all this gear on my body, if I let go of the net at the wrong time, I'll break both my legs on the deck below. As I near the bottom, I hold on tight to the ropes as another gust of wind nearly pushes me into the rolling sea below.

"Now Sir!" Hatchet screams. I instinctively let go and drop. The waves crest at precisely the right time and the deck of the landing craft rises to break my fall. Hatchet and Ratchet grab me and I find my footing on the slick surface.

"Thanks for that," I say turning to her.

"It's what I'm here for, Sir."

The marines in the landing craft begin to hoot and holler in excitement as the coxswain manning the controls in the rear of the landing craft starts the engines and maneuvers us from the side of the Polaris. As we pull away, I look up to the massive guns of the battleship now silently pointing in defiance over the side of the ship. The Polaris' crew has run out on deck to send us off. They lean over the railing and gaze down at us as we zoom past in the direction of the beach. I see a thousand men and women cheering as one, waving their arms in support. They know we'll be the first boat to hit the beach. A lump forms in my throat as I wave back to them.

"_They've done their jobs flawlessly,"_ I think as I raise my rifle into the air. _"Now, it's time to do mine."_

Over the tall steel sides of the landing craft, I see the hundreds of other boats pushing away from the troop transports. They quickly motor over behind us and we take our position in front of the flotilla. As the seas continue to writhe and spit around us, we begin to move in formation towards the beach.

Another burst of TEC coastal artillery fires in our direction. It's remarkable how much more naked I feel floating in this steel bathtub than when I was behind the thick armor of a battleship. The shells explode in the waters around us, but we press forward to the objective. It is but a small sign of things to come.


	70. Freedom's Call Chapter 15

The landing crafts cut through the heavy surf, bobbing and rolling on their long trip to the fortified shore. The wind blows the crest of the waves over the sides of the boat and the water rains down on us in a thick white spray. I look around to the nervous faces around me, heavy with concern and fear at the imminent unknown that bears down on us. Even Hatchet, the old warrior, seems distant as if she's lost in her thoughts. Ratchet can tell something is off about her as well. He occasionally glances over concerned but knows better than to ask anything aloud. Tiller holds his assault rifle to his chest, anxious to see action. I know that he would rather be in the sky with the other attack squadrons, but he knows his place is here with us. Doc once again shoulders his heavy medical kit along with his other equipment. Of all of us, I have the most respect for him. He above all faces the hardest choice: when to take life or when to save it…._and he will do both today._

The effect of so many us crammed into the landing craft definitely gives the impression of what it must be like to be in a can of sardines. As a result, I am thankful that the crowd of marines around us has quieted down. They seem more focused now as we close to within a few miles of the beach, well inside the range of the TEC's coastal artillery.

The clusters of other boats stretch out to either side of us all the way to the horizon. It took the combined resources of two nations working furiously for almost two years to assemble this invasion. If the TECs push us back into the ocean, this war could be lost…but I _refuse_ to let that happen.

Suddenly, the earpiece inside my helmet comes to life.

_"Mockingjay, this is Valkyrie 1,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun says over the radio. _"TAC air is on station and ready for Close Air Support Missions."_

"Roger that Valkyrie," I reply into my microphone. "You're right on time. Standby on this frequency for further instruction.

_"This is Valkyrie, Acknowledge."_

The heavy seas grow worse as we close to within four miles of the beach. I look out over the bow ramp of the landing craft to see the TEC positions, severely damaged by the naval barrage, but still imposing with their acres of metal abatises and concrete bunkers built into a gentle sloping sand ridge at the rear of the beach. Flashes appear from the bunkers as the TEC coastal artillery opens up on the flotilla. The sound of the cannons reaches our ears just as the shells begin to explode in the water around us sending shockwaves that nearly capsize the landing craft. I scream to the coxswain in the rear of the boat

"Tell the flotilla to hold their formation! If we hit the beach spread out, there's no way we'll be able to hit those obstacles and they'll cut us to pieces!"

"Aye Sir!" he screams back to me as he reaches for his radio.

"Valkyrie 1, Mockingjay," I scream into my microphone trying to maintain my calm. I look over to the rest of the occupants of my boat. Hatchet starts to push her way past a few marines and over to the bulkhead. She pulls herself up the side and vomits directly into the writhing sea. I'm scared now, because I know that if she's this sick, she may not be able to move when we hit the sand and will be an easy target for the waiting TEC gunners. Another enemy shell explodes a few dozen yards away and sends the boat into another fierce roll. Hatchet nearly goes overboard, but a marine grabs her waist and pulls her back in just time.

"Ratchet!" I scream angrily over the deafening sound of the explosions and waves crashing against the side of the boat. "Grab Hatch and hold onto her. She can puke on my boots for all I care but she doesn't get separated from us again."

"Yes Sir," He screams pushing his way through the mass of marines and grabbing Olivia by the vest. She fights him at first but soon realizes he's just following my orders and gives in. I'm about to move over to her, when I hear Air Brigadier Valderoun reply to my message.

_"Mockingjay, Valkyrie 1, Go ahead." _I see Doc come to Hatchet's aide instead and I go back to the bigger mission at hand.

"Valkyrie, we've got TEC artillery dug into the beach. They'll blow us to pieces before we even hit sand. You're cleared hot!"

_"Roger, Mockingjay. Standby, we are inbound."_

I push over to Hatchet who has regained her composure. She fiercely pushes Doc away as she climbs back to her feet.

"Sergeant Hightower, don't bulls… me!" I scream right in her ear. "Do you need to stay in the landing craft or are you able to carry on with the mission?" She looks me dead in the eyes and then punches me as hard as she can in my face. I fly backward into the crowd of marines before stumbling back forward.

"Does that answer your question, Sir?" she yells. A few marines move forward to subdue her but I wave them off.

"All I needed to hear, Sergeant," I say massaging my sore jaw. Suddenly, we hear a roar above us in the clouds. The Valkyrie attack hovercraft appear like phantoms out of the overcast sky. Their stubby wings and tails are painted a fierce bright red and are emblazoned with the seal of the UDP. I smile in relief as they zoom in perfect formation toward the beach, skimming only a few hundred feet off the water. As they move over they shore, they launch a hail of missiles into the TEC artillery bunkers, sending shards of steel and concrete rubble in all directions. Massive plumes of smoke start to rise from the shattered gun positions. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, they climb almost straight up and vanish back into the soup.

_"Mockingjay, Valkyrie 1,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun says into my earpiece again. _"We hit the targets, do you want us to repeat our run?"_

"Good shooting, Valkyries," I say into my microphone. "_You're the angels on our shoulders. _Negative, conserve your ordinance and fuel. We'll still need you before the day is over."

_ "Roger, Mockingjay. Returning on station and still standing by for further instructions."_

The landing crafts are now less than a mile from the beach. I look out to see dozens of blue-armored TECs emerging from their shelters and take positions overlooking the landing site. The survivors of the naval barrage and airstrike are raddled, but still ready to fight. A few of them defiantly raise a TEC flag over one of the intact bunkers. It begins to wave wildly in the high winds. Another burst of salt spray hits me and soaks me from head to toe, but the adrenaline building in my bloodstream prevents me from feeling the cold chill on my skin.

"When we hit the beach," I scream loud enough for everyone in the landing craft to hear, "spread out! Don't make it easy for them. Keep moving forward and clear paths for the tanks. They'll only be two types of people on this beach when the sun sets, the dead and those waiting to die…_don't be one of those!_" The marines all reply with a deafening

"_Hoorah!_"

"I want that TEC flag up there in my hands by lunch. Do you all understand?"

"_Hoorah!_"

I look over at my team again. Hatchet has seemingly regained her strength and is shouting orders at the team again.

"Ratchet you take the left, Tiller you're on the right. Doc bring up the rear and try not to die, understand?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Sir," she continues still in her old form, "You stay right on my ass and don't you dare move from it!"

"Roger that, Hatch," I say with a grin. Despite everything she's been through, she still is trying to protect me.

"_Ping, Ping, Ping_," We hear as TEC machine gun rounds begin to ricochet off the steel plating of the bow ramp.

"Standby to beach!" The coxswain screams from the rear of the landing craft. The marines rush forward to the bow and raise their weapons at the ready. The entire boat jerks violently to a halt as the flat bottom slams into the sandy bottom. I feel my heart beating in my chest and I take one last deep breath…

The front ramp drops with a violent thud onto the wet sand. I find my legs running forward as we all charge out of the boat onto Francian soil. The deafening sound of machine gun fire combines with the fierce war cry of the marines as we rush straight ahead into the maelstrom.

I see a marine in front of me take a burst of rounds to the chest and collapse to the sand. I instinctively dive to the right as another hail of bullets slams into the ground right where I was standing. I look ahead and see Hatchet charging forward and firing her rifle into the TEC positions two hundred yards in front of us. Ratchet and Tiller are right at her sides. Doc dashes over to try to help the fallen marine, but I see the young warrior is already gone. His blood soaks into the sand, staining it a deep shade of crimson. I dash over and grab Doc by the vest.

"He's dead!" I shout to him over the noise. "Keep moving or you're dead too and we need you alive!" Doc instantly climbs to his feet again and we charge forward again just as a flurry of TEC bullets peppers the poor marine's corpse. A few yards ahead of us is a gigantic shell crater left in the sand by one of the Polaris' main guns. The five us drop into it for cover and are soon joined by a few of the surviving marines. Hatchet, Ratchet, and Tiller take positions on the crater's edge and open fire with their assault rifles. They begin to snipe at exposed TECs on the ridge above us. Doc moves to a marine who took a bullet through the shoulder and begins to try to stop the bleeding. I take the opportunity to get my first glimpse of the battlefield. The bunker with the TEC flag above it is directly ahead and has a machine gun team inside which is unloading a hailstorm of bullets onto the brave UDP soldiers huddled below. Those unlucky enough to not find cover in time fall in heaps.

The rest of LaSalle's infantry has surged forward on the beach to either side of us and has already reached the cover of the metal abatises at the base of the ridge. They wildly return fire with their rifles but I know that small arms will not breach the TEC line.

"_What we need are the…"_

A second wave of landing crafts reach the shore behind us. They drop their ramps and I hear the deafening roar of turbines engaging. LaSalle's tanks scream forward from the boats onto the beach and begin to make their way to our positions.

I reach down and find my radio.

"All UDP forces! Armor's hit the beach!" I scream to all the units around us. "Engineers, hit the obstacles with your bangalores! Infantry, cover them!"

Up and down the beach, teams of sappers break cover and move forward to the twisted steel and wire of the final rows of obstacles while the rest of the UDP forces fire away furiously with their rifles. They know the tanks are useless until we make a path for them. Their tracks cannot climb over the obstacles without getting stuck and they cannot fire their devastating cannons over us without risking friendly casualties.

The sappers reach the row of obstacles and begin threading long pieces of pipe filled with high explosive underneath the bottom of the abatises. In a few furious seconds, their work is completed and they run back to the rest of the force under covering fire. When I see that the last of the sappers are safe, I give the order:

"Fire the bangalores!"

"_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_" Along the length of the entire row of shore, the bangalores explode, sending debris and sand a hundred yards into the air as they rip ten yard wide holes in the TEC obstacles. The tanks see their opportunity, and with another roar of their mighty engines, charge forward into the breaches made by the sappers. As soon as they pass through the dismounts, they let loose with their main guns. High explosive shells rip into the TECs with surgical precision, tearing huge gaps in the defender's lines and clearing the way for our advance.

The UDP infantry moves up and takes cover behind the massive steel behemoths as they lumber forward on grinding tracks up the gentle slope toward the TEC lines.

"Let's move!" Hatchet yells to the rest of us as she charges out of the crater and moves into cover behind the nearest tank. The other four of us soon join her and follow the steel beast up the rise to the top of the hill.

I look to my left and see a trench dug along the crest of the rise that leads to the TEC machine gun bunker. It still has a few fanatical TECs in it who fire their rifles futilely into the armor of the tank. The leviathan quickly traverses its turret over and dispatches the enemy with a few quick bursts of his coaxial machine gun.

The commander of the tank opens his hatch and pops his head out to signal us that we are clear to enter the trench. As the rest of the Mockingjay team and I bolt over to drop into the trench, the rear door of the bunker flies open and a TEC pops out with a shoulder lauched anti-tank rocket. The five of us raise our rifles and fire, but just as the TEC falls under our bullets, he fires the rocket directly into the side of the tank's turret. An explosion blows across the tank's side, sending hundreds of pieces of jagged shrapnel right into the exposed commander. He drops back down in the turret dead.

The five of us charge forward down the trench and reach the rear of the bunker. Hatchet, Ratchet, and Tiller stack on the door while I pull a hand grenade from my vest. Doc stays back to pull security behind us. I take my position and wait for Hatchet's signal. After she gives me a silent nod, I pull the pin, and heave the grenade directly inside the bunker.

_"BOOM!"_ the explosion rips through the inside of the concrete stronghold and the three of them charge inside. Bursts of rifle fire echo from the door, and by the time I run inside behind them, the remaining TECs inside lie dead on the floor.

The enemy machine gun that caused so much carnage on the beach below now lies silent, it's red hot barrel still smoking in the humid sea air. I look over to the rest of the team expecting some kind of victorious cheer or shout, but there is only hard silence. Tiller turns back around towards me, and I see his eyes grow wide with anger. I spin around and see a framed portrait of Grosfrere, staring back at me from the rear wall of the bunker with defiant hatred. Slowly, I walk over, rip it from the wall, and throw it to the ground. With a hard stomp of my boot, I smash it to pieces and walk back outside.

I climb up outside the trench and look to the beach below. More waves of UDP infantry and tanks have landed and pushed the TECs back from their fortified positions and into Francia. For a few brief moments, we are safe. _The beach is secure._

I walk about a hundred yards down the ridge. Our first victory of the invasion has cost of us dearly. The TEC defenders made us pay for every inch of sand with blood and lives. A few hundred of our finest young men and women lie dead and hundreds more are wounded. Doc, along with the other medics, does what he can, but we know it will never be enough. What we truly owe the fallen, is our eternal thanks. We can never forget their sacrifice.

I find a relatively quiet spot, sit on the sand, and pull off my helmet. The rest of the team slowly gathers around me as I monitor my radio. The highlanders have secured the cliffs of the western most beach. Tragically, they have also suffered heavy casualties. The rest of the UDP Marines along with the British commandoes have pushed their way inland, but are taking fierce resistance from TEC reinforcements moving up from inland.

Finally, I can't take it anymore and pull out my earpiece for a few seconds to gather my thoughts. Every fiber of my being wants to break down and stop, but I know we must fight on. I look out back toward the ocean and take a deep breath of the salt air. I just try to be thankful that the five of us have made it here unscathed and are ready to continue our mission.

"You know," I hear Hatchet's voice from behind me, "on any other day, it would be absolutely beautiful here…" I look over my shoulder to see her sitting with Ratchet on a small sand dune. He gently holds her hand in his. I smile as I think that in all the hatred and death of this morning, a small bit of love lives on. Tiller stares out contemplatively at the waves as well.

"What are you thinking there, Sergeant Osprey?" I ask him quietly.

"Sir, I'm just thinking I'm happy to still be alive…"

_"You and me both."_ I pause for another few seconds before I replace my earpiece and helmet. "Alright, let's find Doc and form up. We have to push forward with the tanks and rendezvous with Brigadier LaSalle at that TEC village."

Just as we all climb to our feet, I hear a voice from behind me.

"Sir." I turn around to see a marine. I recognize him as the one who pulled Hatchet back into the landing craft. He walks up and hands me a balled up piece of fabric. _"As you ordered,"_ he says calmly before turning around and marching away to rejoin his unit. I throw open the ball to reveal the TEC flag that had been flying over the bunker. Hatchet laughs as she looks down at the time on her communicuff.

"_Just in time for lunch, Sir."_


	71. Freedom's Call Chapter 16

The late afternoon sun burns through the clouds as a few dozen UDP soldiers move down a narrow dirt road south toward the TEC village. The Mockingjay team leads the way walking behind the safety of a tank.

I made radio contact with General LaSalle before we left the shoreline. He landed with his armored column on the beach about a mile east of us and said that we should go on ahead. After securing his sector of the beachhead, he would continue on another route and be at the rendezvous point soon after our arrival there.

The heat of the day, combined with the long march begins to bake us in our armor, but we carry on. After almost five miles, we come to the outskirts of the Francian settlement. I order the vehicles to stop behind a grassy hill and order the Mockingjay team to come with me to scout things out. We maneuver through a ditch at the edge of a large cattle pasture. The lumbering bovines continue to graze oblivious, to the events around them. Finally, we reach a point behind a thicket of trees that lets us view the village unobserved.

The five of us lie down in the grass and pull out our binoculars. I peer through the lenses towards the brick and white plaster buildings. In the center of them is the feature of TEC architecture that I have come to loath the most: a five story white marble pyramid climbs toward the sky. I cannot help but think back to the Francian village that Grosfrere torched to the ground because of us. I grit my teeth in the resolve that this village will never share in that fate.

"This place looks deserted," Doc says.

"I highly doubt it," I respond warily. "Those tank turbines are pretty damn loud. I wouldn't be surprised if every civilian is shaking in the dark of their cellar…_or worse_."

"What do you mean '_worse_,' Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"I'm just praying that the TEC army hasn't gotten here first," I reply nervously.

"Let them try to harm innocent people again because of us," Hatchet says defiantly. "They haven't seen me angry yet."

"I admire your spirit, Sergeant," I say still scanning the empty streets with my binoculars, "but restraint is the word. I don't want to see any civilian hurt in reprisals that doesn't have to be."

Suddenly, we hear sporadic gunfire coming from inside the village.

"Get down!" Hatchet says as we ready our weapons for contact. We flatten ourselves into the earth hoping that we'll be able to slip back to our forces before the TECs reach our position, however, someone else takes care of the enemy for us. A few hundred yards to the front, we see a single TEC soldier, running towards the fields from in between two buildings. He is disarmed with hands flailing wildly as he bolts for his life. Hatchet readies herself for the shot, but before she can fire, the TEC is cut down by a hail of bullets fired from inside the village.

"What the hell?" I ask reaching for my binoculars again. I see a group of four Francians calmly walk up to the fallen TEC. Each one is wearing a strange mix of TEC civilian jumpsuits and ancient clothing similar to the resistance fighters in the broadcast we received in Tower Control weeks ago. All of them carry a rifle (no doubt stolen from the TECs who used to occupy their town). They move to the corpse, ensure that the soldier in the blue armor is no longer breathing, and then carrying him back between the buildings.

"Sir!" Doc says pointing to something. "Look at the pyramid." I glance over and see a banner drop from the top of the marble structure. It is a simple piece of fabric, painted in the distinctive tri-color of the Francian Resistance.

"I'll be damned…" I say muttering under my breath. "They did it, they really did it. We might have a shot at winning this thing yet…"

We quickly rush back to our waiting reinforcements and move forward again toward our rendezvous. I give explicit instructions for everyone to maintain their calm and not to seem hostile to the Francians. Just because these particular villagers have decided to fight against Grosfrere doesn't necessarily mean they're on our side.

The tank in front of us roars to a halt on the outskirts of the settlement. I look up to see the tri-color still fluttering in the breeze above the buildings. I cannot help but think how bold a statement this is on the part of the villagers. There are still plenty of scattered TECs in this countryside and now every one of them will be drawn here like a moth to a flame.

"Let's go," I say to the Mockingjays. I order the rest of the UDP soldiers to maintain their position outside the settlement. We don't make it more than a few steps inside the village before we are met by an armed squad of Francians. The one who appears to be their leader steps forward. He has a long overcoat over his white jumpsuit and rags wrapped around his head to conceal his face. He _also_ keeps his rifle in front of him at the ready apparently unsure if I view all people in the TEC as enemies. We stare back at each other with quiet respect for a few long moments before I finally make the first move. I'm really glad I had Maggie teach me a few words of ancient Francian before we left.

"Bonjour," I say raising my right hand in a gesture of peace. Slowly, the resistance leader unwraps the rags from his face. He is a young man, but has the face of someone who has aged before their time due to hardship and labor.

"Your accent is horrible, General," he says with a grin. "Welcome to Francia. We have been expecting you since your broadcast to us a year ago…it certainly took you long enough to arrive." I look around to the other members of my team who just chuckle with amusement.

"I'm honored, Sir," I say back to the resistance leader. "I guess I'll have to have your help to work on the accent."

"I am a fighter, Monsieur," he says walking up to me and holding out his hand, "not a miracle worker. _Luc Renoir_."

"General Ares Snow, UDP Defense Forces," I say back with a laugh.

Renoir leads us toward the pyramid at the center of town.

"Most of the TECs stationed here broke and ran to join Grosfrere's main army to the east," he explains as we walk. "The ones they left behind were definitely not their best." He leads us into the square in front of the pyramid. Tied to the execution posts in front of their former symbol of power, ten TEC's, still in their blue armor, hang limply by their wrists. "It didn't take much to overwhelm them and take their weapons. The shipments of supplies that your hovercraft have been dropping in our fields by night have been most helpful, but we would still appreciate whatever you can spare now, General."

"I'm sure we can work something out," I say quietly.

"Well, we definitely have five sets of body armor that we're willing to spare," Hatchet mutters patting at her chest.

The rest of the villagers appear happy that we have arrived, but still seem unconsciously unsure of our presence. It's completely understandable. After being told their entire lives that the Supreme Lawgiver was invincible, they're no doubt definitely afraid of his return. Their act of insurrection has made their intentions clear: they will win their freedom or die facing the consequences.

I make contact with Brigadier LaSalle again and he arrives with another advance column of his tanks just as night begins to fall. With Renoir's permission, we begin moving our troops and vehicles from the beachheads into the farm fields around the village. As the hundreds of tanks and thousands of soldiers move into impromptu staging areas in the once peaceful pastures, we know that the TECs will target their counterattack right at us. The other villagers come up to Renoir to complain, but he allays their fears with a simple fact: the more UDP forces that are here, the safer they will be from TEC retaliation.

Renoir takes the Mockingjay team and Brigadier LaSalle to the village inn that has become his headquarters. We take a seat at a wooden table underneath another tri-color banner. One of the servers produces a bottle of local wine which we all gratefully share except for Hatchet who says she is too tired to drink.

"Thanks for the hospitality, Sir," Brigadier LaSalle says to Renoir before taking a sip from his glass.

"It is us who should be thanking you, Monsieur," Renoir replies. "Things have never been easy here. We have always suffered under Grosfrere's rule with no end in sight, but after you began your war, we now believe that once again, Francia will be free."

"What's the deal with flag?" I finally ask as my curiosity gets the better of me.

"That flag was once our national colors," Renoir says with a deep reverence in his voice. "It has always been forbidden as a symbol of the decadent past, but somehow the old ones have always kept its memory alive through the centuries in the hearts of all true patriots. It was not a hard choice as the symbol of our resistance."

"Speaking of the resistance," I say. "Do you have any contacts with other cells further east?"

"No," Renoir replies to my disappointment. "We could not risk making our plans known to others before the time was right to strike. The only people who knew of this village's intentions were those I have known since my birth and I'm sure that this will be the case in all of the TEC, Monsieur. Grosfrere has eyes and ears everywhere. Anyone who speaks too much will meet the fate of those you have seen in the propaganda broadcasts."

"In that case, do you know of a place we could look to acquire _discreet_ transportation?" Hatchet asks.

"Why?" Renoir asks.

"The five of us are trying to get to Germania as quickly as possible," I say taking a sip of wine.

"Germania!" Renoir asks surprised. "Why in the Lord's name do you want to go there? It may be the only place in the entire country where the Supreme Lawgiver is looked on with genuine love. Only Grosfrere's most fanatical supporters are allowed to live there."

"There's somebody there I've always wanted to meet…" I say trailing off.

"Well, I am afraid that we cannot help, but the place you should try next is Village Francia 24602, about ten miles southeast of here. It is a railway hub and no doubt has some ways to get you to Germania."

"Is it as loyal to Grosfrere as you are?" I ask hopefully.

"With the way that the Supreme Lawgiver has forced them to serve him…_probably much less, Monsieur."_

One of Brigadier LaSalle's staff officers comes running in the door with a written message. As LaSalle reads it, he looks as distraught as if he was receiving word of the death of a loved one.

"What?" I say becoming worried.

"The eastern advance of the marines and British commandos has collapsed…" LaSalle says not looking up from the paper. "They fought as long and hard as they could, but the TEC reinforcements were just too much. Ten divisions worth of armor, almost three thousand tanks, is headed right for us. They'll be here by late tomorrow morning."

"My Lord!" Renoir says jumping to his feet. "What are you going to do?" he says looking at me with a frantic face. "They will raze this place to the ground."

"Don't worry, Monsieur," I say looking back to our newest ally with a steely face. "You fought for us today, and tomorrow we'll fight for you."

LaSalle, Hatchet, and I quickly formulate a plan for the next day's battle before heading over to the Brigadier's new encampment in a cow pasture outside of town. Two Hundred of his tanks are tightly coiled facing outward in defensive positions. The other eight hundred UDP tanks are scattered throughout the valley. All of them will see action in the morning.

"Are you sure you don't want to assume command for the battle, Sir?" LaSalle asks me as the Mockingjays and I follow him among the rows of armored vehicles frantically preparing for action in the dark.

"No, Darius. This is your army and you should be at its head." He nods in appreciation as he brings us to a stop in front of a damaged tank. Mechanics are working furiously to repair it.

"Well, Sir," he continues. "Since you and the rest of your team can't go anywhere until we deal with this counterattack, I was wondering if you could help out in another way. This tank company was under Captain Peabody, my finest young commander. He trained his crews to be the best and they are. They'll be the main effort tomorrow during the battle."

"_But?_" I ask concerned.

"Captain Peabody led his column onto the beaches this morning and took a TEC rocket right to the turret. The tank is a little banged up, and the rest of his crew is alright, but he didn't make it… I need an experienced tanker in command of his vehicles."

"Surely, you have somebody else?" I ask.

"Yes Sir, but no one with your combat record in a turret. With three of them for every one of us, I need every old hand that I can get." I nod understandingly.

"Sir," Hatchet says to me concerned. "We have another mission, we can't afford to get you hurt or even worse…_killed_"

"Brigadier LaSalle's right, Hatch," I say staring her in the face. "There's no way we can make it through to Village 24602 with ten divisions of enemy in the way. We've got to break through their lines."

"What about the rest of us, Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"Well, Ratch, You and Tiller see what you can do to help get the damaged tanks ready for action. Doc, I'm sure their medics need all the help they can get." The three of them nod silently. "And Hatch, I'm sure they'll need an experienced infantryman for the fight."

"Definitely," Brigadier LaSalle says. "My personal security detail could use another experienced Sergeant First Class."

"_Great_…babysitting another officer," she says rolling her eyes. Neither of us have the courage to reply.

I give one last order before we all separate.

"After the battle, rendezvous back at the village. We'll dump whatever equipment we don't need with Renoir and move out to infiltrate through the broken TEC lines."

"And if they're not broken after the battle, Sir?" Doc asks.

"_They will be_," I say gritting my teeth. I refuse to fail. We've come too far for that.

Doc leaves toward LaSalle's aide station and Tiller joins in helping the mechanics refit my new vehicle. Before Ratchet joins him, I look over to see him share one last moment with Hatchet. They sneak into a dark corner between two vehicles where they think I won't notice.

"You be careful out there," he says wrapping his arms around her. "I just got you and I damn well don't want to lose you now."

Hatchet grips him tightly and leans in close to his ear.

"I love you with every piece of me," she says as a tear falls down her cheek. "When I fight tomorrow, it'll be for only one reason: _to get back to you_."

"I love you, Olivia," he whispers back. "You're my whole world now."

I am happy for them and jealous at the same time. How I wish I could have Lizzy here at this moment, but I have to settle for a slow glance up to the stars and a single prayer to the night sky that my love will somehow find her. When I say my peace, I go to meet my new crew. I hope they're as good as Brigadier LaSalle says because tomorrow my life will be in their hands.


	72. Freedom's Call Chapter 17

I must admit, it feels really good to be back in a tanker's jumpsuit. The sun is still a couple hours from rising as I walk towards my waiting tank. My new crew is already making the final preparations. It seems that Brigadier LaSalle was not exaggerating at all. They truly are the best, and I'll need them.

_Three to one_. That means for every UDP tank that falls in battle, at least three TEC tanks will have to be destroyed or we'll be swept off the field like leaves before a hurricane. I know we can do it, but it's still not a very reassuring thought.

Hatchet left with Brigadier LaSalle to join his headquarters section about an hour ago. I found it curious that she didn't say goodbye to Ratchet before she left, but I guess I shouldn't. The two of them have started to read each other's emotions very well and I guess they said all they needed to last night.

Now, as I climb aboard my new vehicle, I look over to see an exhausted Ratchet, just having finished spending all night recalibrating the tank's transmission. He stands next to Tiller and Doc. All of three of them stare up at me with a unique mix of nerves and confidence. They know that the danger of what I am about to face is real, but somehow realize that I will come back alive.

I nod to them one final time before dropping down inside the steel turret and taking my seat in the commander's position. I take a few moments to refresh myself with the layout of the vehicle. I sit on the rear right of the turret with my gunner sitting in front and below me. My knees come about two inches from the back of his head. The loader doesn't have a chair. Instead, he stands to my left in front of the ammunition locker at the rear of the turret. The driver is separated from us. His place is down in the hull at the front of the tank. The only way we can communicate is through the intercom which is linked to the headset in our helmets.

Between me and the loader is the breach of the massive cannon. When the gun fires, the entire assembly recoils backward into the turret almost to the rear wall. I remember back in training, there was a loader in another tank that was too careless and drifted behind the breach without anyone else realizing. When the gunner fired, it pinned the poor fool between the back of the gun and the turret wall so hard that it crushed his ribcage, killing him instantly. From that point on, I always had a deep respect and fear for this machine. It will obey your commands, but if you disrespect its power, you too can be a victim of it as well as your enemies.

I look through my scope just a few inches in front of my face. Even though my crew already checked it out for me, I still personally verify that everything is working and in focus. I pan the sensors back and forth with the joystick down by my right side. During the battle, my entire world will be this screen. Everything, friend and enemy alike, is illuminated in the green glow of my thermals. I must know the difference between them and make the call. This is my primary job as the tank commander. I spot targets for the gunner and put him right on target with the push of a button on my joystick. When I designate an enemy, the turret will automatically move the gun onto the target, allowing him to kill it in seconds. The whole process is extremely fast, and it will have to be today.

The radio suddenly crackles to life with the voice of Brigadier LaSalle.

_"All units, this is Groundpounder 1, begin engine start and prepare for movement."_

"Alright, you heard him, Driver," I say into my headset. "Spin up the engines."

_"Roger, Sir."_ The driver hits the ignition, and the tank roars to life with a terrible low-pitched hum which is deafening even inside the thick armor plating of this seventy-ton monster. A chill actually runs down my spine as I remember what it's like to have this much raw power at my finger-tips. Infantry combat on the ground is intense, but there's nothing quite like the rush of fighting from a tank.

_"Sir,"_ the driver says through the intercom. _"All gauges are green. We are Redcon 1."_

"Roger, Good copy, Driver."

One by one I receive word from each of my other tanks that they are ready to move. When the last reports in, I key the radio.

"Groundpounder 1, Mockingjay."

_"Go ahead, Mockingjay."_

"Roger, We are Redcon 1. Ready to move out."

_"Good copy. Start your movement and we'll be right behind you."_

I order my tanks to begin their movement southeast towards the advancing TECs. As we pull into formation, the rest of LaSalle's eight hundred tanks slowly pull into formation across a four-mile wide front to either side of us. Slowly, it finally starts to hit just how large the scope of this operation really is. When all this is over and done, it might be one of the largest battles ever fought.

We drive a little over two miles outside of Renoir's village. In the time that takes, the sun creeps over the horizon and illuminates us with the first few bright rays of day. The steady vibration of the tank's engines causes my eye lids to grow heavy. I haven't slept in over two days and I'm finally starting to feel it. I have to give myself a little slap to jog me back to reality. This is _not_ the time to be losing focus. Finally, we arrive at the position LaSalle and I decided on the night before: a huge stretch of open field and pasture. Perfect for engaging the TECs in the open. If their advance has remained steady, they'll be here in about half an hour.

We spread our forces out behind a rolling chain of hills on the western side of the fields with my company in the very middle. Hiding just on the reverse crest of the hillside will be enough to conceal us from the enemy until we decide to reveal ourselves to them.

Minutes pass. My palms grow sweaty from nervousness as I scan back and forth across the field with my scope. We'll have one chance for surprise: _one chance_ to take out as many of them as possible before they get a fix on our positions and come at us like an armored tsunami…

"Sir!" My gunner screams looking through his sights. "Enemy tanks 12 o'clock!" I scan over and finally see them. Cresting over the hills just a mile away is the massive horde of TEC vehicles, rolling in tight formation directly at us. I don't know if they've spotted us yet, but I'm not going to take the chance.

"All UDP armored elements! Enemy tanks 12 o'clock! Load Sabot!"

Without hesitation, my loader opens the door to the ammo locker, pulls out a forty pound armor-piercing shell, and shoves it into the breach of the cannon which automatically slams shut with a loud, _"Clank!"_

"Up!" he shouts as he slams the safety lever to the armed position. He says this phrase to let me know that he is safely out of the way and we are ready to engage. His whole operation takes less than five seconds.

I keep watching the TEC tanks through my scope. Fear grows inside as they keep coming. Hundreds upon hundreds, grinding towards us on their metal tracks. They stretch across my entire field of vision. It appears their strategy is simple: _overwhelming, merciless force. _Unfortunately for them, I have no intention of backing down today.

Brigadier LaSalle left it up to me to start the attack. As soon as the enemy is completely in the open, I give the signal…

"Valkyries! Now! Now!"

"_Roger, Mockingjay, We are inbound. Might wanna button up,"_ Air Brigadier Valderoun's voice says crackling in my earpiece. Her hovercrafts were already waiting on station. It takes them less than half a minute to come streaking in formation from the northwest. The TECs are taken completely off guard as waves of attack ships begin pouring missiles and bombs into their ranks. I watch the carnage through my thermal scope. Enemy tank after enemy tank explodes in massive fireballs as tons of metal and earth are sent flying into the air. The sky outside my hatch grows dark from the burning clouds of black smoke rising from the smoldering hulks. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, the UDP hovercrafts disappear again into the clouds. Their attack was brief, but served its purpose. The confused TECs have broken formation. They drive around wildly trying to figure out exactly what just happened. Their disarray is what I've been waiting for. I shout my fire command into the radio to all my other vehicles.

"Groundpounder elements, Sabot, Tanks, Frontal, Simultaneous Fire..."

"Identified!" my gunner shouts as he locks his sights on an enemy.

"Drivers Up! Fire and Adjust!" I scream into my headset. In one massive line, all the UDP tanks across the entire front surge over the top of the hill, creating a solid four mile long firing squad of steel death facing the disoriented TECs.

"On the way!" my gunner shouts as he pulls the trigger.

_"BOOM!"_ echoes across the north Francian plains as eight hundred tanks fire their cannons at exactly the same time. The front of the TEC rank explodes into another chaotic mess of fiery explosions.

The cannon's breach recoils backwards mere inches from my left arm before slamming forward again back into battery. The steel breach block drops, ejecting the empty shell casing to the metal floor of the turret with another _"CLANG!"_

"Drivers back!" I shout into my headset and the entire UDP line once again disappears back behind the cover of the hilltops. The loader reflexively grabs another shell and slams it into the gun.

"Up!"

"Good shooting, Groundpounders," I tell the others through the radio. "Fire at will!"

Now that I've released the other tanks to attack individually, I go to work spotting targets for my gunner.

A surviving TEC tank dashed from left to right across my scope.

"Gunner, Sabot, Tank!" I press the button on my joystick which immediately locks him onto the target.

"Identified!"

"Driver Up, Fire!" My tank surges forward again.

"On the way!"

_"BOOM!"_ we send another deadly round downrange. It strikes the TEC vehicle right in the side armor. The enemy tank comes to a dead stop almost instantaneously.

"Driver Back!" We duck down behind the hill again.

We continue to engage targets like this for a few more minutes. The TECs are being devastated, but they are not defeated yet. They start to reform their groups and begin to return fire. Slowly, I start to receive reports of UDP vehicles being hit and disabled. We can't afford this. It's time to move…_now_.

"Groundpounders, advance now! Give them moving targets to shoot at."

Our lines push forward over the hillside, advancing toward the TECs with the goal of pushing them into a full retreat. Exposing ourselves like this is risky, but the armor is thickest in the front of the vehicle. If you have to take a hit, better to take it there than risk getting flanked sitting still.

We drive ahead, firing as we go. The TECs are so shocked by our fierce barrage they actually begin to retreat. We push past the burning hulks of dead TEC tanks as the surviving targets of opportunity grow less and less as the enemy disappears back toward the east. I'm finally starting to relax a bit as I think the battle might be drawing to a close until suddenly I see a streak fly past in my thermal scope.

_"BOOM!"_ The tank a hundred yards to my right explodes. I hear screaming in my radio as its crew tries to bail out of their burning vehicle. I order two other tanks to fill the gap in the line, when suddenly another streak slices through my scope. _"BOOM!"_ another tank further down the line explodes.

"Groundpounders! We got a dismounted anti-armor team with rockets out there. Scan! Scan!" I shout into the radio. My gunner spots them first. They must have somehow dismounted from an armored personnel carrier hidden among the enemy tanks. Five TECs hide in a ditch that cuts across the battlefield. They're armed with shoulder fired missiles that have the potential to kill a lot of good people if we don't stop them.

"Gunner, Coax, Troops!" I shout.

"Identified!"

"Fire!"

"On the way!" My gunner lets loose with the coaxial machine gun mounted next to the main cannon. A hailstorm of bullets slices through the air and makes mincemeat of the dismounted TECs.

The battle rages for about another hour. We continue to slowly advance forward, engaging the retreating TECs as they flee in chaos back towards the east. The only reason that Brigadier LaSalle and I finally decide to end the pursuit is that we are fast running out of ammunition and fuel.

Our victory was hard fought and came with a cost. After the guns quieted, twenty-five of our tanks were destroyed and forty-two of our brave tankers lost their lives. However, the TECs faired much worse. Grosfrere bragged about the invincibility of his tanks and the skill of their crews, but apparently that was as much a lie as his sense of justice and mercy. Between Air Brigadier Valderoun's airstrikes and Brigadier LaSalle's tank assault, over two thousand TEC vehicles were destroyed or disabled: _two-thirds_ of Grosfrere's armor lost in one devastating day. I'm not sure if it was an inferior vehicle design or just bad training, but the TEC crews seemed unable to shoot at us from long distances, and when they finally were close enough to fire, their rounds had very little effect. Our tanks that were lost were mostly lucky hits to the engine compartment or turret joints.

Brigadier LaSalle orders the majority of his forces to take defensive positions to hold the territory we gained while resupply convoys move up to them. However, I order my tank to return to the village so that I can meet back up with the rest of the Mockingjays. The TEC advance has been stopped cold, which means that with a little bit of luck, we can make it Village 24602.

The drive back seems to take forever as I reflect on the morning's events. I am ecstatic that we were able to achieve victory, but still deeply saddened by the loss of life on _both_ sides. Staring at the enemy tanks on a screen, it is very easy to forget that each and every one of those vehicles is filled with human beings just like me. I take no pleasure in what I was forced to do, however, I do not regret my actions today. I know in my heart that they were necessary, and with the guiding hand of fate, may help bring freedom to those fallen enemies' descendants.


	73. Freedom's Call Chapter 18

My tank returns to Renoir's village in the early afternoon. Hatchet arrives a few minutes later in an armored personnel carrier. Brigadier LaSalle decided to stay at the front to continue to plan the advance. He knows what will come next for the Mockingjays and has no need to say any kind of farewell.

"How was it?" I ask walking over to Hatchet once she dismounts from her vehicle.

"How do you think?" she says sarcastically as she picks up her rifle and slings it across her back. "I stood there with a gun right next to him while he yelled into a radio! An enemy soldier didn't get within three miles of us!"

"Consider yourself lucky, Sergeant," I say loosening the collar on my jumpsuit.

"_Lucky?_" she says sounding a bit insulted. "How about you, Sir? You were the one who got to blow away half the TEC army wearing that crazy set of fireproof tanker pajamas while I had to stand silently by like an idiot in thirty pounds of armor."

"Should have been a tanker then, Sergeant."

"Not a chance, Sir," Hatchet says with a grin. "I like being a _real _soldier too much." We both laugh.

We walk into the village together towards the inn. Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet sit around the front door waiting and nervously taking sips from a canteen that I'm pretty sure isn't water. They see us and bolt to their feet. Doc and Tiller run to me, but Ratchet goes straight into Hatchet's arms. Normally, her professionalism would push him away, but she allows him one embrace.

"I was so worried," he says wrapping his arms around her.

"You shouldn't have been," she says squeezing back. "I was more bored in the past twelve hours than I have been in the past twelve months. Now," she says pushing back from his arms, "get back, Babe. You still smell like motor oil." She gives him a quick peck on the forehead and both of them smile. The weight on my heart eases for a brief moment as I see them reunited, but returns as soon as Lizzy and Octavian flash through my mind. I've got to get this fight over with…_I've got to get back to them._

"You been monitoring the reports on the radio, Sir?" Tiller asks excited.

"Yes indeed, Sergeant," I say with satisfaction. "The TECs are in full retreat back towards Germania."

"And that means?" Doc asks hopefully. Renoir has heard our return and appears in the front door of the inn with another bottle of wine.

"We'll leave at midnight. That gives us almost twelve hours to prep and get a little rest. We push for Village 24602."

We humbly refuse Renoir's offer of wine, but gratefully accept a warm meal from the Francians that's not field rations. Unfortunately, what they call "food" in the TEC isn't much better. I believe what was served was some kind of soy and grain patty soaking in a thin gravy. Apparently, the idea of real meat is still as foreign to them as a life lived in peace without fear.

Afterwards, we find some space in a stable nearby to get some sleep. Renoir insisted that we take rooms at the inn, but the Mockingjays all agreed that those beds should go to the wounded. We're fine on the dirt. The roof over our heads is just an added bonus.

As the sun sets into darkness, we pull out our blankets and make our sleeping spaces by candlelight. The power has long since been cut by the retreating enemy. We're all exhausted, but Hatchet and I make sure everything is ready before we bed down. We check and clean our weapons, make sure what little gear we're taking is taped down to eliminate any kind of noise, and finally Ratchet pulls out the most important package of all. We requested the recipe from the UDP after we decided on Amelia's plan to destroy the "The Heart," and Ratchet whipped us up a batch with Maggie's help. I guess her knowledge extends to chemistry as well. Ironically, the formula was developed for the UDP by Ohm. At least he'll be able to make some kind of contribution to the war effort for us.

Ratchet slowly opens the small, metal case to reveal three plastic vials of viscous purple liquid resting inside thick shock-absorbing padding. It has to be transported this way because it is so unstable. We weren't thrilled with the idea of carrying this stuff, but it could be the most vital component of our mission to bring down a building as large as "The Heart." It is tri-lithium resin: the most powerful conventional explosive ever developed. Three vials detonating together is equivalent to a two-thousand pound bomb.

"Is it still good to go?" Hatchet asks nervously.

"As good as it will ever get, Sergeant," he replies as he examines the cargo. "I mean it's made it this far without any problems. Though, there were some moments on the beach that the nerves started to get me."

"Just promise me you won't sneeze too hard while you're carrying those things, brother," Tiller says.

"Trust me, man," Ratchet says back. "If this stuff goes, you won't be around to know what happened." There is a knock at the wooden door of the stable. I nod to Ratchet and he quickly closes the lid of the box and hides it back in his rucksack.

"Come in," I say when the coast is clear.

It is Renoir, carrying a large white bundle is his hands.

"I thought you might be able to use these, Monsieur," he says handing the bundle to me. I open it to find five long white cloaks, each with a massive hood. "Standard issue for civilians in the Trans-European Commonwealth. With your plan to infiltrate a village behind the lines, they may come in handy."

"Not very well camouflaged," Doc says staring at the bright, white fabric.

"But definitely useful when we get around a couple thousand TEC soldiers," I reply.

"And large enough that we can hide a rifle under them," Hatchet says encouraged. I hand the cloaks to her and she puts them with her equipment. Renoir extends a hand out to me.

"Good luck to you, _Mon Ami_," he says as we shake.

"Thank you for everything you've done for us," I say to him with gratitude.

"I did it for my country and my people, Monsieur."

"Then, I believe that Francia will be in good hands."

"Not just Francia, Monsieur. The more Grosfrere attempts to suppress word of your landings, the faster it has spread. Thanks to a generator graciously contributed by Brigadier LaSalle before he left, we were listening to the pirate broadcasts from around the TEC in the inn. The Norwegians, Greccians, and Polskians are in full revolt. There are even reports of Polskian rebel cavalry overwhelming TEC positions on horseback! You all have started something no amount of Grosfrere's bullets and bombs can stop. Europe will be free…_one way or another_."

"Take care of yourself, my friend," I say shaking his hand again.

"Now that you have seen my home, I hope to visit your land of Panem one day…"

"And I would be honored to show it to you."

"_Bonne Chance_," he says before stepping back outside. I close the door behind him and turn back to the Mockingjays.

"Sir," Doc says looking up at me with a long face. "Don't bulls… me. Do we have a chance on this mission? Sneaking all the way to Germania, breaking into the most secure building on the planet, and then making it home alive?" I pause as I reflect on his question. "I mean, there's nothing that will stop me from trying. I just want to know that if I die doing it, it wasn't for some stupid reason."

I scan to all the other faces in the dancing orange light of the candles. I owe them more than just the typical military response.

"The odds aren't good, Doc. But if somehow we pull it off, then we'll be letting a lot of other people get back to their families safely, and an entire continent will know what it's like to live free."

"What about our families, Sir?" Ratchet says glancing over to Hatchet. She just looks down to the straw covered ground.

"I can't speak for yours, but I hope that mine will understand that if I fall, it was for something more important than myself."

We all rack out for a few short hours. Doc and Tiller find places among the piles of hay and are soon snoring. Hatchet and Ratchet both climb into the loft and fall asleep side by side in each other's arms. I rest my head on my rucksack and gaze up at the bare rafters. As my eyelids grow heavy, I fall into an uneasy sleep…

Octavian is all grown up. He has turned into the type of man that I am proud of. He carries himself proudly with broad shoulders earned by years of hauling fishing nets. He holds Lizzy's arm in his. She has grown old and frail and her long blonde hair has turned to aged silver. However, her face is still as beautiful as they day I first laid eyes on it.

They slowly walk hand and hand in a grassy field near the seaside. They seem to know exactly where they are going, but it still causes them deep grief. Their pace slows as they approach a simple, white marble headstone that looks out to the ocean.

They stop and turn to it, pausing to reflect for a few moments before Lizzy produces a single red rose from inside her long coat. She looks up to Octavian who nods empathetically. He lets her go and she slowly steps forward toward the grave. Finally, just as she reaches the headstone, she collapses to her knees and begins to weep. Octavian rushes forward, but a wave of her hand causes him to step back. She gently places the flower on the grave and pushes herself up to her feet. Octavian takes her arm once more and they slowly step backward.

I finally am able to see the name on the headstone:

_Ares Snow_

_Soldier, Leader, Beloved Husband and Father_

I try to gasp for breath as I realize that I am staring down at my own grave, but nothing comes. Octavian and Lizzy become aware of my presence and stare directly at me. "You promised you wouldn't get hurt," Octavian says with a judgmental look in his eyes.

"You promised you would come back to us," Lizzy says next. Their words slice into me like an icy blade. "We've been alone for so long…_so very long_." I try to come up with some response, some comforting words to say to them, but I only hear silence. Suddenly, I feel a sharp jab in my side.

"Sir," Hatchet says shaking me awake. My eyelids fly open and I find myself back in the Francian stable. "Get up, it's time to go." She has already re-lit the candles and gotten the rest of the team up. Doc is stripping only the vital medical supplies from his bag. The rest will be left for the Francian rebels. Ratchet wraps the precious box of tri-lithium in a piece of blanket he has cut for it and secures the package to his side with a few straps.

We strip ourselves down to our uniforms and vests and leave the rest of our equipment behind: rucksacks, body armor, helmets…_everything_. All we take is our weapons, ammunition, the cloaks provided by Renoir, and a little food and water. The rest will only serve to do is slow us down and make us more obvious to any TEC patrols. I even leave my radio behind. I can't risk letting it fall into enemy hands and besides, the word of our mission's success will be plain enough: is "The Heart" destroyed or not? Finally, I take the last vital piece of gear and pin it to my shirt: The Mockingjay pin. It has come this far, and I'll make sure it makes it all the way to the end.

After another uneasy meal of cold field rations, we gather our gear, extinguish the candles, and walk out into the Francian night.


	74. Freedom's Call Chapter 19

The stars and moon are so bright that we don't even need night-vision glasses. The distant sounds of war rage around us. Every few minutes, we see bursts of light from distant explosions on the horizon, followed a few seconds later by dull booms as allied and TEC artillery duel with each other across the front lines.

We move quickly and quietly in a column across the rolling, pastoral terrain. Hatchet is in the lead, scouting the way with the excellent edge that I have come to expect from her. She doesn't even seem to need a compass. It's like she navigates purely by instinct. Doc is right beside me while Ratchet and Tiller take up the rear. We say nothing, afraid that the slightest noise could alert nearby enemy to our position. In reality, we know that the TECs are scrambling in retreat and are probably far to the east of us, but it is that careless arrogance that will end up getting us killed so we take no chances.

I stare up at the brilliant night sky, dotted with stars, and dream of what it will be like when this war is over. I look forward to taking my son out into country much like this, and laying with our backs in the grass as I explain the constellations to him. I dream of the look of wonder on his face as I talk about the three stars of Orion's Belt, the Big and Little Dippers, and how no matter where you are, you can always look to the North Star to find your way back home.

I glance ahead again and can barely see Hatchet as she streaks her way across the terrain, cutting across darkened fields, country roads, and the thick rows of hedges that criss-cross this country. When I first saw these strange bushes, I didn't know what to make of them. When planning the mission for yesterday's battle, I asked Renoir to explain what they were. He said that they had been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. They were planted by ancient farmers to mark the boundaries of their fields, and no matter how many times armies have laid waste to this land, they have always stood as firmly rooted in the earth as the local population. He had a tone in his voice that confused me at first, but I came to quickly realize that's how he thought of himself and his fellow Francians. This land is not just where they live, it is a part of them as much as Britannia is a part of Angus, District 4 is a part of Lizzy, and District 12 is a part of Katniss. Having spent so much of my youth in a concrete building outside of the Capitol, I have never felt such a deeply personal connection to a place, but I imagine it is why people like Angus, Lizzy, and Katniss are so willing to lay down everything they have and risk it all for something that no one else but them really understands. I have a profound respect for people like them, but I fear it is something that I will never know.

By the time the sun begins to rise in front of us, we've gone almost seven miles. Hatchet motions for the team to move down towards a stream she's spotted near a grove of trees. It will prevent us from being spotted as we get our bearings, and give us a chance to take a quick and much needed break.

"We're getting close," she whispers as she collapses down onto the soft grass of the bank. We all take a long drink of water from our canteens and then refill them in the cool water of the stream. Doc pulls out a small bottle of iodine from his medical kit and places a quick drop in each of our bottles.

"So, do we stay here and wait for darkness to make our move into the village?" Tiller asks loosening the laces on his boots. As a pilot, I don't think he ever expected to need to walk as much as he has while assigned to my team.

"I don't think so," Hatchet says greedily cramming a few bits of cracker into her mouth from an open ration pack into her pocket. "Lord, I'm hungry," she mutters as finishes the last few bites.

"What do you mean, Sergeant?" Ratchet asks.

"We're in front of our lines by now," she says reaching back into her pocket and pulling out a packet of cheese spread. She opens another cracker, spreads the cheese on top, and takes another big bite. The four of us marvel considering that we watched her cram an entire ration into her mouth a few hours ago and none of the rest of us seem to have an appetite yet. "TEC civilians won't be moving around at night anymore and if we don't want to draw a lot of suspicion moving into the village, we should go in during the day," Hatchet says spraying little bits of cracker in our direction.

"You get enough to eat last night, Hatch?" I ask.

"Do you want some of mine?" Ratchet asks holding an opened field ration in her direction.

"No," she quickly snaps back at him. "Keep it for yourself. You're gonna need it and I'm fine." Ratchet sheeplishly puts the food back into his pocket.

"Well," I say moving the conversation back to the first topic. "Sergeant Hightower is right." I climb to my feet and point over to a road a few dozen yards away from us. "That should take us in the direction of the village. I say we skirt it for as long as we can, and then put on those disguises Renoir gave us and try to sneak in. Agreed?" I receive a nod from everyone else and then we're off.

We're able to stay hidden among the trees till Village 24602 comes into sight. We all are a bit taken aback but what we find. Column after column of TEC soldiers, vehicles, and equipment are pouring into the small settlement from the west. Military transport trains rapidly move in and out of the depot on the south side of the village as Grosfrere's beaten and bruised army flees in the face of the allied onslaught. However, the most concerning fact is that we can barely see the streets among the rolling sea of blue armor.

"How, the hell are we ever going to get through them and link up with the Resistance?" Tiller asks.

"Yeah, if I were the rebels, I'd be long gone after I saw that coming into my backyard," Ratchet mutters.

"A lot of luck," I say to Tiller as I take a long look with my binoculars. "Most of them seem to be congregating down by the rail depot. If we go to the north side of place, we might be able to get in unnoticed."

"And the Resistance?" Hatchet asks raising an eyebrow.

"Hopefully, they'll find us first. If not, then we'll have to find them."

"And if we can't?" Ratchet says nervously.

"Always, the pessimist," I say with a grin trying to bring the mood up. "Well, the trains are right there. Surely it can't be that hard to figure out which one is going to Germania. Still got those cloaks, Hatch?"

"Yeah, Sir. Right Here," she says pulling them from off her back.

"Alright, let's get dressed."

Luckily, it's cool enough not to look completely out of place wearing a heavy cloak, but I'm still concerned that we'll look very strange to anyone we encounter. Regardless, we have to try. After concealing our entire bodies under the white fabric and raising the hoods over our heads, we make our way down the road and slowly approach the northern half of the village.

I nervously grip my rifle under my right arm and try to walk normally, but I can't help thinking that if a blue-armored TEC gives us more than a passing glance, we'll be spotted. Somehow, we make it to the outskirts of the buildings and step inside the village.

I'm reassured when I see that this part of 24602 seems almost deserted. The shutters of the homes are tightly closed and no one is moving around except a couple of soldiers we see walking along the streets a few blocks to the south. We walk quickly, trying to find something that will tip of us off to the location of the local rebels.

"So, we're inside the village, Sir," Hatchet whispers to me. "Now what?"

"That's a _good_ question, Hatch" I whisper back as I see the white-plastered buildings in front of us look no different from the ones we just past. The symbols of the Resistance I remember from the broadcast in Tower Control and Renoir's village race through my head, but I see none of them here.

_"Why would I see them?"_ I think to myself as I realize that if the Resistance is here, they'll be doing everything in their power to stay hidden and an outsider like myself will have no chance of recognizing them. _"Hell, Renoir wasn't even sure if there was an active cell here!"_

"Let's turn south toward the depot," I say to the rest of my team. "At least we'll be heading in the direction of the train tracks."

"Isn't that really risky, Sir?" Tiller whispers back sounding a bit concerned.

"Got any better ideas?"

"Nope, I guess south it is," he replies nonchalantly. At the next intersection, we turn to our right, but after only a few steps, we run smack into a group of three TEC soldiers and my eyes immediately drop to the assault rifles they all carry in their hands. They see us and turn right in our direction. The three of them stare at the five of us with their black visors and I can see our reflection in their featureless faces. We look like a group of strange white monks in our cloaks.

_"How stupid could I be?"_ I think as my heart pounds a mile a minute in my chest. _"There's no way we're gonna fool these guys looking like this. Hell, all they have to do is ask us a question and we're screwed as soon as they hear our voices."_

Without, pulling down my hood, I bow respectfully to them and turn back in the opposite direction. The rest of the team follows my lead and we start moving toward the street we were just on as quickly as we can without looking suspicious. However, just when I think we might have survived, I turn around and see the three of them following about a hundred feet behind us.

_"Dammit,"_ I think to myself as I walk closer to Hatchet.

"Do you see?" I whisper as quietly as I can without looking at her.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "Looks like we have some uninvited guests to the party." She discreetly pulls open the front of her cloak and shows the throwing axe still hanging from her belt. "I can make it quiet, Sir."

"Not here," I say as she quickly covers the weapon back up. "It's too open. We have to lure them someplace out of the way." I look back again and they have gotten a few steps closer. They can raise the alarm at any time. The slightest shout, scream, or sound of gunfire will draw half the TEC army right to us and we'll dead on the spot.

"Better make it quick then, Sir," Ratchet says with more urgency in his voice. "They're still gaining on us."

On the next block, I see an alleyway and lead the team inside. We quickly duck between two buildings, but are immediately confronted by a solid white wall almost thirty feet tall.

"We're trapped!" Tiller says next to me. Hatchet throws open her cloak and reaches for her axe, but it's too late. Before we can turn around to face our adversaries, we hear the sound of three rifles being cocked in rapid succession. The booming, microphone enhanced voice of a TEC soldier rings out from behind us.

_"Don't Move!"_


	75. Freedom's Call Chapter 20

_"Don't Move!"_

Hatchet looks as if she's about to reach for her axe, but a subtle nod of my head stops her. They would shoot us all before she even was able to turn around.

_"Hands up!"_ the TEC soldier commands. Slowly we all raise our arms over our heads.

"Why do they all look like druids?" says the voice of another of the TECs referring to our cloaks and hoods.

_"We're not the druids you're looking for!"_ Ratchet anxiously shouts out. I shoot an angry look in his direction for his sudden outburst and he just looks back to me shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright, _slowly_, drop your hoods and turn around," the first TEC soldier commands. Hatchet and I look at each other one more time, but know the jig is up. All five us nervously pull back our hoods and slowly turn to face our captors. When the lead TEC sees my face, he immediately drops his weapon and motions for the other two to do the same. The five us are all shocked as the lead TEC quickly removes his helmet and reveals his face.

"Welcome to Village 24602, General Snow. Quickly, put your hoods back up and come with us."

"Wait," I say dropping my hands. "Who are you?"

"The best hope for freedom in this village until you arrived, _Monsieur_."

"_The Resistance!_" I think as my heart finally starts to slow down.

"Quickly, _Monsieur_," there is enemy everywhere.

"Sir," Hatchet says abruptly. "How do we know this isn't a trap?"

"We don't, Hatch," I whisper as the resistance fighter quickly replaces his helmet. "Just keep your eyes open."

Safely concealed back under our white hoods, we follow the three rebels back out towards the street and to the north of the village. They lead us into another alley and to the doors of a cellar. Their leader knocks on the wooden entrance in a pre-arranged rhythmic pattern and the portal opens. The rebels beckon us to step inside. Hatchet hesitates, but follows as soon as I step down into the darkness. Once the five of us are safely inside, the Resistance fighters follow and bolt the doors behind us.

I walk down a set of creaking wooden steps, removing my hood again to see better in the blackness. At the bottom, I am met with another pair of resistance fighters, armed to the teeth. Their weapons and equipment glimmer in the light of dozens of candles. When they see me, I instantly recognize a look of relief and excitement in their faces. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller bunch up behind me, still not entirely sure this is safe. The lead resistance fighter, walks up to the guards, says something in ancient Francian, and the pair leads the five of us down a dimly lit stone hallway to an underground wine cellar.

The cramped space is filled with fighters in all manners and modes of dress. Some still wear the standard issue white jumpsuits, while others are almost completely kitted out in TEC equipment. A makeshift desk, made of wine barrels and wooden planks, sits in the center of the cellar. Behind it, is a woman with long, jet-black hair and piercing grey eyes. Her appearance and the way she carries herself both remind me a little of Katniss.

She looks up from a collection of papers and maps she is studying and stares at me with a huge, sly grin.

"_Mon Dieu_, why it is the General Himself," she says leaning back in her chair. "I definitely did not expect such an important person to make an appearance here this early in the war. So, _Monsieur_, what brings you to this little piece of a paradise?"

"Luc Renoir sent us here," I say not wanting to reveal too much of our plan until the time is right.

"Luc Renoir?" she says with a confused look in her eyes. "I do not recognize the name."

"He's a fellow lover of freedom, such as yourself, Ma'am," I say trying to sound confident. "He said you might be able to help us."

"_Help you?_" she asks incredulously. "Why, General, how could I help you when you are the one with the army? What you see here," she says raising her hands and pointing to the guerillas around her, "is all we have."

"Ah, you see, Ma'am, you have something here that even I don't have." I say before glancing over to Hatchet. She rolls her eyes indicating she's once again annoyed by my use of diplomatic language.

"And what is that, Monsieur?" the chief rebel asks. I walk up to her desk and lean towards her. Her entourage is nervous by my forwardness, but I sense that the leader is intrigued.

"_A way to get to Germania, Ma'am_," I say with firm emphasis. She begins to laugh so loudly, I'm afraid that she might give away our hiding place.

"Germania, _Monsieur_?" she says incredibly surprised. "Just what the hell do you intend to do there with only five soldiers? Are you trying to defect?"

"Can you help me get there or not?" I say not breaking my gaze with her. She looks over her shoulder and yells something in Francian to another fighter nearby.

"If that is really your intention, General, then yes, I can help you." She sits up and extends her hand across the desk. "Marie Dupont, _Monsieur_." I reach forward and shake her hand.

"I believe you already know my name, Ma'am."

We spend the next hour discussing our options. Finally, Dupont, Hatchet, and I come up with what we think will be the best solution.

"It is a good thing you came when you did, General," Dupont says pointing at a map of the rail lines around the village. "With all of Grosfrere's army trying to retreat, our intention was to blow the tracks tonight and trap them. However, if it is really your goal to go through with this suicide mission, then your train will be the last to get out." She gestures to a large fighter standing a few feet away. He walks up to us and takes his place next to Dupont. "Alain here has worked in the railway depot all his life. He knows everything that occurs there."

The big fighter begins pointing to the map and describing the train schedule.

"They have added ten trains a day since the war began to accommodate the increased military traffic," Alain begins, "but every night at 2015 hours, there is an express to Germania for high ranking officials and important traffic. Because so many of Grosfrere's cronies are always aboard, the train is never searched. Also, it travels to the military depot nearest 'The Heart' without stopping."

"Sounds like our ride," I mutter to myself. Hatchet nods her head in agreement. "So, how do we get aboard?"

"First, you'll have to get rid of those ridiculous disguises," Dupont says with a grin. "Civilians are not allowed near that particular train." She gestures to another group of fighters who appear with five suits of TEC officer armor. "Not only will it make you look like you're supposed to be aboard, but it will hide your faces better."

"Where did you get those?" I ask suspiciously.

"Let's just say their former owners don't need them anymore," Dupont says with a satisfied grin.

"What about our weapons?" Hatchet asks.

"We will trade you for TEC rifles, Sergeant," Dupont replies. Hatchet gets another annoyed look on her face.

"Well, at least ammo won't be hard to find," she mutters. Dupont continues.

"Next, you will need a distraction to get aboard. The standard procedure is to check the identification of everyone before the train departs, but if the train must…_expedite_…it's departure, you should be able to slip aboard unnoticed."

"Just what kind of 'distraction' did you have in mind?" I ask.

"_Us_," Dupont says firmly.

"What do you mean?" Hatchet asks.

"We will get into position around the depot, and once we see you approach the train, _we attack_. Then once you are aboard and the train departs, _we blow the whole fuc…. place_."

"And you say _we're_ on a suicide mission?" Hatchet asks. "There can't be more than twenty of you. The whole TEC army is around that place."

"Sergeant," Dupont says reassuringly, "you fight the war in your way, _and we will fight it in ours."_

"Thank you, Ma'am," I say gratefully. "Your help has the potential to bring a much faster end to this war."

"_Monsieur_," Dupont says cutting straight through my political language, "I don't know or really care what you will do in Grosfrere's capital. Frankly, I don't want to know. Just promise me that if we die getting you on that train, you make that traitorous son of a b…. pay for his crimes."

"Count on it," Hatchet says before I can respond.

The sun sets and the five of us, newly equipped with TEC weapons and armor, walk through the streets of Village 24602 toward the rail depot. Ratchet has his wife's throwing axe and the precious tri-lithium hidden in a small pack on his back.

"So, how do I look as a TEC?" Ratchet asks to Tiller sarcastically.

"Probably the exact same as I do, Genius," Tiller replies through his helmet's microphone. Doc just shakes his head in silent disapproval.

"Knock it the hell off, you two," Hatchet says angrily over her shoulder. "We're trying to blend in, remember?"

The streets are still completely empty except for the occasional patrol of TEC soldiers. However, when they see a group of officers walk by, the TECs only salute with a respectful, "_Hail Grosfrere_," and carry on in their business.

We get to the outside of the depot and see our train resting on the platform. Unfortunately, in the hundred yards between us and our transportation, is a crowd of about a thousand TEC soldiers.

"So, how do we get past these guys without being spotted?" Hatchet mutters.

"_Hail Grosfrere_," we hear in a familiar Francian accent from behind us. We turn around to see Alain and a few other resistance fighters dressed in railway depot uniforms and carrying some cargo containers. "If you fine gentlemen will follow me, I will escort you to your train." A few other TEC officers are around so I decide to join in the act.

"_Hail Grosfrere_, Citizen," I reply to him in a callous, uncaring tone. "Perform your duty." Alain nods and begins to cut a path through the crowd.

"Clear a path for the officers of the Supreme Lawgiver!" he shouts and the enlisted TECs on the platform dive out of the way as if Grosfrere himself was marching past. The other resistance fighters walk behind us with their heads down as if they were simply carrying our baggage. No one gives us a second look. Perhaps they should have, considering that every few yards, the resistance fighters clandestinely drop one of the cargo containers they are carrying among the other stacks of crates on the rail platform.

We approach the train and Alain stops us.

"There's a cargo car directly in front of us," he whispers to me when no one is looking. "Try to sneak aboard once the attack begins."

"_Bonne Chance,_" I whisper back to him.

"_Toi Aussi_," he replies before disappearing back into the crowd with the other resistance fighters. The five of us linger on the platform trying to look normal until disaster strikes.

"_Orders and Identification,_" we hear from behind us. I turn around to see a TEC soldier standing between us and the train. We look at him silently, hoping that our appearance as important TEC officers will dissuade him, but he is unfazed.

"_Orders and Identification_," he repeats more emphatically. "This is an official military transport to the capital of the Supreme Lawgiver and requires proper papers to board," he says holding out his hand. My heart races as I realize that despite my best attempt at a TEC accent, he may recognize our charade as soon as we open our mouths, and he will definitely know we're fakes when we can't produce the papers.

He begins to grasp his weapon more tightly and just when he looks ready to sound the alarm…

"_BOOM!"_ an explosion rips through the other side of the platform. Dozens of TEC soldiers go flying and dozens more begin to shout in confusion. I look over and see the TEC soldier who was questioning us has become distracted. _"BOOM!"_ another explosion detonates even closer to us and gunfire opens up on the crowd from a freight building next to the tracks.

"_Vive Francia!_" Alain screams at the top of his lungs from behind a cargo container at the freight building as he fires wildly into the crowd with a machine gun. TEC after TEC falls in the hailstorm of his bullets. Hatchet sees that all the TECs have now either fled in the opposite direction or rushed toward the gunfire to fight the rebels. She dashes over to the door of the cargo car and slides it open. The other four of us dive inside. Once on the train, I grab her arm and help her aboard and we slam the door shut again behind us. Two slits in the wall let us watch the battle unfold.

"_BOOM! BOOM!"_ two more explosions detonate on the platform, but the inevitable slowly happens as the TEC onslaught begins to overwhelm the courageous freedom fighters. Suddenly, the locomotive's engines roar to life and we feel the train pull away from the depot. Just before we clear the platform, I catch one final glimpse of Alain. He has not given one inch of ground, even as the mob of enemy closes in on him. He falls to a TEC bullet that finds its mark right through his heart. He collapses to the ground, killed instantly. The sight of his sacrifice brings the ancient Francian anthem of the rebels back through my mind:

_Aux armes, citoyens,_

_Formez vos bataillons,_

_Marchons, marchons!_

_Qu'un sang impur_

_Abreuve nos sillons!_

As the train accelerates in the darkness toward the east, a final massive explosion rocks the train depot of Village 24602. A fireball, fueled by tons of fuel and ammunition awaiting transport to the rear, reaches hundreds of feet into the air. The shockwave almost knocks us off the tracks as the remains of Grosfrere's army in Francia are consumed by the inferno.


	76. Freedom's Call Chapter 21

After about half an hour, we feel safe enough inside the boxcar to relax and remove our helmets. It is pitch black inside, so we have to put on night-vision glasses to see each other.

"Looks like we made it," Hatchet says pulling out her canteen and taking a long drink of water.

"_To this point, Sergeant_," I say sitting down against a cargo container. "But I won't say that until 'The Heart' is rubble and we're back safely behind friendly lines."

"And you call_ me_ the pessimist, Sir," Ratchet says with a chuckle.

"Get some sleep guys," I say. "Alain told us we won't be in Germania until tomorrow morning and we'll need the rest."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Tiller says stretching out on the metal floor of the boxcar.

"What about you, Sir?" Doc says concerned.

"I'll be fine, brother," I say.

"The Sir and I will take turns, Doc," Hatchet says sitting down next to me.

"Roger, Sergeant," Doc says knowing there's no point in fighting against a united front. Soon, he's out as well. Ratchet relaxes, but can't sleep either.

He sits down next to Hatchet, but doesn't get too close because he knows it can make her uncomfortable when I'm sitting right there. The good news is I'll finally get the chance to talk to these two alone for a while.

"So, how's married life?" I ask trying to take the edge off of things.

"I'll let you know when we finally get to start enjoying it," Hatchet says leaning back against the cargo container.

"What about you, Ratch?" I say looking across Hatchet to him.

"Definitely can't complain, Sir," he says with a smile. "Still can't figure out how a guy like me ended up with such an incredible woman."

"Don't you ever forget that, either, _Grease Monkey_," Hatchet says with a coy grin. Ratchet and I manage a chuckle.

"How about you, Sir? How are things with Lizzy and Octavian?" Ratchet asks. My long pause makes him realize that he probably shouldn't have, but I answer so he doesn't feel guilty for bringing it up.

"It's hard…_very hard_. I miss them more and more every day."

"I can't imagine being away from family this long," Ratchet says.

"Well, I'm afraid in this career, you don't have much choice," I reply.

"No, Sir," Ratchet says. "I've already decided that when this whole thing is over, I'm getting out and focusing on trying to start a family…or I should say when I'm actually ready to be a father." Hatchet jumps a little bit. Obviously, just even mentioning kids sets her on edge a bit.

"Do we really have to talk about this right now with the Sir here?"

"Oh no," I say. "Don't worry about me. Pretend like I'm not even here." I roll over a bit and stare out at the night sky through the slits in the side of the boxcar. The two of them continue talking.

"You really want to get out of the military when we have kids?" Hatchet asks Ratchet surprised.

"Absolutely! We can't raise a family with a work schedule like that! They'd never see us."

"General Snow has a kid and he does just fine," she says pointing at me. I'm actually getting a little uncomfortable at this point.

"Didn't you just hear him? He says it's driving him crazy," Ratchet says. I wince a little bit but still say silent. I know it's better to not get involved in this. "Do you really want to be a mom and soldier at the same time?"

"Well…yeah!" Hatchet says raising her voice. "I don't want to sacrifice my career!" She sounds really upset right now.

"Who said anything about sacrificing your career?" Ratchet says raising his voice to match hers now.

"_You did!_ You said '_we can't raise a family with a work schedule like that_," she repeats back to him in a very patronizing tone.

"But that doesn't mean I expect you to give everything up!"

"Then what does it mean then?"

"I don't know! Say, why are you so upset? We're not gonna have kids for a long time, after all."

"What?" Hatchet says.

"Yeah, there's no way we're ready right now," Ratchet says pushing himself back up. Hatchet just rolls over on her side right next to me. This is starting to get _very_ awkward now. "Liv, do you wanna have kids right away?" he asks surprised.

"Maybe, possibly…._I don't know_. JUST FORGET ABOUT IT, OK!"

"Would you two shut the hell up? We're trying to sleep!" Tiller's voice booms out of the darkness.

"_Excuse me?_" Hatchet says sitting up angrily.

"Yeah, Sergeant," Doc says joining in. "When you're giving us orders, you're the platoon sergeant, but when you're talking about babies and stuff with Ratch, you're our buddy's wife."

"Fine! You want orders?" Hatchet snaps back angrily. "_Go to fuc…. sleep!_"

"_Uh oh_," I think to myself.

"Sergeant Hightower," Hatchet shouts at Ratchet. "Go over with the other sergeants and go to fuc…. sleep!" she screams. Ratchet picks himself up with his tail between his legs and crosses over to Tiller and Doc.

"Hatch," I say trying to calm her down.

"Go to sleep, Sir!" she shouts right in my face like a drill sergeant talking to a basic trainee. Hatchet pushes herself to her feet and grabs a rifle. "I've got first watch," she says crossing to the other end of boxcar. She takes a seat on a stack of cargo containers and stares out one of the slits at the passing countryside. I can see in the bright moonlight that reflects off her pale skin and blonde hair that she's crying. Now, I know I have to get involved as much as I don't want to.

Quietly, I push myself to my feet and slowly walk over to her.

"I thought I told you to go to sleep, Sir," she mutters without even looking at me.

"You know," I whisper back to her. "I could have this whole 'chain of command' thing all backward, but I could have sworn that I'm the one who supposed to give you the orders," I say with a chuckle.

"_Fine…_" she says still obviously angry.

"Alright, Olivia," I say, "what is up with you?" She finally looks at me.

"It's none of your business, Sir."

"It is when it impacts the emotional health of my best NCO when she's in the middle of a combat zone." She wipes her cheeks with her gloved hand.

"I'm beginning to think marrying Ratchet was a mistake," she whispers softly enough so that only the two of us can hear.

"What?" I ask totally surprised. "Do you not love him anymore?"

"Of course I love him, Sir! I love him more than anything I've ever loved before."

"Than what's the problem?" She hesitates. "C'mon, Olivia. I want you to trust me enough as a friend that I won't break your confidence." She hesitates again.

"There's a part of my life that I'm not ready to give up yet. I love being the warrior, you know? The 'go to girl' who can go anywhere and do anything."

"And you're afraid that once you start to settle down, you're gonna lose that?" I ask as I take a seat on the cargo container next to her.

"Yeah," she says looking down at her feet. "Sooner rather than later."

"Do you remember when you were asking me to perform your wedding and you asked if you and Hatchet had ever acted unprofessionally together?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, that professionalism extends beyond just interpersonal behavior, Sergeant. You can be a soldier, a wife, and a mother all at the same time. They're not mutually exclusive."

"Are you sure?" she says nervously.

"Of course I am. After all, Ratchet was actually right this time. I'm a soldier, a husband, and a father."

"Well, technically not a 'soldier,' Sir. I mean you are _an officer_." We both laugh before she leans her head on my shoulder, and I tense up again. Not only is she my platoon sergeant, she's also one of my soldier's wives.

"Hatch…"

"Yes Sir?" she says not moving from my shoulder.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"It's just a friendship thing, Sir," she says as fatigue starts drifting into her voice. "Just let me rest my eyes for a few moments. Then wake me up and I'll go back to watch."

"What about resting your head on Ratchet's shoulder?"

"He's already asleep…" she says with a big yawn. I'm about to protest again when I realize she's out like a light. I sigh in frustration but know she deserves a little sleep. I lean back against the cargo containers and stare out at the night again. Suddenly, I'm aware of how exhausted I really am as well. I fight as my eyelids grow heavier and heavier but the rhythmic rocking of the train as it flies down the tracks finally causes me to drift off.

"_Ahem_," I hear as someone loudly clears their throat in front of me. I slowly open my eyes as I realize that the bright morning sun is shining right in them. When my vision finally clears, I realize that Doc, Tiller, and a very perturbed Ratchet are staring right at me. I wonder why until I also realize that Hatchet is still asleep with her head on my shoulder. As the shock and embarrassment hit, I jostle her awake and she opens her eyes as well. We both fly apart and jump to our feet.

"Babe, it isn't what it looks like," Hatchet says humiliated.

"_It better not be_," Ratchet says.

"No, Sergeant. I swear," I say next. "Hatch was just using me as a pillow." It's then I feel that my entire shoulder is wet. "And she drooled all over me! _Dammit, Hatch!_" I say trying to wipe the saliva from my armor.

"A pillow?" Ratchet says surprised. "Liv, if you needed a pillow, there's one right here!" He says pointing to his own shoulder angrily.

"Yeah," Tiller says, "but that pillow is incredibly handsome and makes far more money than you do, Bro."

"What do you mean?" I shout at him angrily.

"He's right, Sir," Doc says sarcastically. "There's no way around it. You're a beautiful man."

"Can we stop talking about how beautiful I am right now?" I yell. Tiller and Doc start laughing uncontrollably while Hatchet and I turn bright red. Ratchet punches Tiller as hard as he can in the arm, but the TEC armor seems to do a good job of protecting him.

"Clint," Hatchet says walking over to him. "I'm sorry about this, and I'm even more sorry about last night. I don't know what got into me. Nerves I guess." She immediately leans her head on his shoulder. "You'll always be my favorite pillow." A smile creeps across Ratchet's face and he rubs his hand across her back.

"It's alright, Liv. I love you."

"I love you, too." She replies. I still am bright red and don't know how to apologize. Luckily, Ratchet is kind enough to do it for me.

"And it's alright, Sir," he says looking at me. "I know you didn't mean anything." I feel an immense relief as I realize that Ratchet is going to be the bigger man and not jump to conclusions.

'I appreciate that, Sergeant," I say.

"Alright," Tiller says interjecting himself into the conversation again. "Now that we've got all the touchy feely crap out of the way, can we please figure out exactly where the hell we are?"

"Well," I say, "we can figure it out." I pull a map out of my armor. "If we left Village 24602 around 2000 last night, and it's now 0623," I say checking the time on the communicuff in my pocket. "Assuming a constant speed of approximately 70 miles per hour..."

"Sir…" Hatchet says to me.

"Just one second, Sergeant," I say holding up my finger. "That's a little over ten hours, so that means a little over 700 miles…."

"Sir!" Hatchet shouts.

"What?" I say looking up at her.

"I think we're in Germania," she says pointing out of the slits in the side of the boxcar. I look to see the massive outline of "The Heart" in the distance surrounded by the monumental architecture of the rest of the Supreme Lawgiver's city.

"_My Lord_," I say to myself. "_Looks like we made it_."


	77. Freedom's Call Chapter 22

The train comes to a screeching halt in the Germania depot. We look out through the slits in the boxcar at the glistening skyline of the enemy's capital. The passengers of the train quickly disembark onto the platform and depot workers rapidly start to unload the cargo cars.

"It won't be long before someone opens this door and finds five TEC officers who aren't supposed to be here," Hatchet mutters.

"Then let's make a discreet exit, shall we?" I say placing my helmet back onto my head. Ratchet and Doc open the sliding door on the opposite side of the car from the platform and we slip down onto the tracks. We do our best to move discreetly between the cars to the platform without being noticed. Just as we think we're in the clear, a voice calls out.

"_Hail Grosfrere, Gentlemen_." we turn around to see a TEC depot worker standing behind us. "I'm afraid you'll have to register your weapons over at the security booth before you move into the city. We've been placed on high security alert to do the recent aggression of the UDP imperialist enemies." I freeze, not sure of what to do. There's too many people around for us to try to get away.

_"Hail, Grosfrere, Citizen,"_ I say raising my hands above my head in the TEC salute. The worker gets a suspicious look on his face when he hears my voice. I know he'll say something if we don't take care of him. Somehow, the rest of the team seems to be reading my mind. "Could you show us exactly where the security booth is?" I ask. "I've never been to this depot before."

"Certainly, Sir," he says still with an air of distrust. "_Right this way_." He begins moving towards the end of the platform. Luckily for us, no one else seems to notice the six of us moving away from the crowd. As soon as we've put a little distance between us the train, Hatchet sees her opportunity. She slips around behind the man, and exactly when the time is right, buttstrokes him across the back of his head with her rifle. He collapses into Doc and Tiller's waiting arms and we covertly drag him between two stationary train cars to another empty platform.

"Over here!" I whisper as I open up a cargo container on the platform. There's just enough room inside to fit the man's body. Doc and Tiller hoist the worker up and into the container.

"He's gonna feel like crap when he wakes up."

"I'm afraid we can't allow that," I say sadly. "As soon as he wakes up and raises the alarm, this city will be locked down tighter than the missile vaults in District 13." Though I can't see his face behind his visor, I know Doc is _not _happy. His primary job is to save life, but he knows that sometimes the opposite is required. "_Hatchet…_" I say regretfully.

"He won't feel any pain, Doc," she says walking up to the man's body. In a flash, she wraps her arms around his head and twists violently. There is a sickening crunch as the man's neck snaps. He goes limp instantly and Hatchet and Tiller finish the unpleasant task of cramming the corpse into the cargo container while Ratchet pulls guard. Before they shut the lid, Hatchet reaches down to the man's belt and removes a keycard.

"This could come in handy," she whispers.

"C'mon," I say beckoning the others toward the back fence facing downtown Germania. "It won't be long before he's missed." We sneak among the stationary trains resting on the tracks until we reach the fence. We find a small gate with an electronic lock on it.

"I wonder if this will work," Hatchet says holding up the keycard.

"Either it will open the thing or set off every alarm in this place," Tiller says.

"Only one way to find out," Ratchet says.

"Go for it, Hatch," I say.

"_Here goes nothing…_" she mutters swiping the card across the lock. We all wince, anticipating the worst, but the lock just clicks open harmlessly. In the blink of an eye, we slip through the gate and towards the city.

We begin walking along a large deserted highway that leads from the industrial sector towards "The Heart," but soon realize that this plan is not going to work. A group of five TEC officers walking by themselves on a roadside will raise _a lot_ of suspicion.

"Any one got any ideas?" I ask as we take cover in a grove of ornamental trees in the median. The road stretches straight for miles in both directions but seems completely empty of any kind of traffic. Apparently, Grosfrere likes to build things that make his people think they're free to travel, but doesn't let anyone use them but his army. The glint of sunlight off a windshield catches our attention, and we make out a TEC military truck speeding in the direction of the downtown in the distance. Suddenly, Hatchet throws her rifle to Ratchet.

"_I might have an idea…_" she whispers. She begins to take off her armor.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask totally confused.

"_Just using what my mama gave me_, Sir," she says throwing her helmet aside and letting her long hair down. As the truck gets closer, she strips down to just her underwear.

"Ok, this is _weird_," Tiller mutters. Ratchet is in shock. Hatchet leans over and kisses his lips.

"Just follow my lead, Babe," she says to him. _"Hopefully, these cheesedicks like girls."_ When the truck is only a hundred yards away, she steps out into the highway. Almost instantly, the truck's tires screech, sending up a cloud of white smoke as the vehicle comes to a dead halt right in front of her. Two TEC soldiers in enlisted armor step out of the cab and walk over to Hatchet.

"Excuse me," she says in her best TEC accent. "I've gotten a little lost and was wondering if you two could…_help me_." She leans forward, showing off her chest and biting her lower lip seductively. The two TECs just look at each other like they just won the lottery.

"Of course, sweetheart," one them says walking around behind her.

"We're here to serve our fellow citizens after all," the other says bending forward and flicking a strand of hair out of her face. Ratchet looks like he's about to explode, but I lean over and grab him.

"_I know_, Brother, but she knows what she's doing and probably just saved our lives." The rest of us slip around the back of the truck. Tiller and Doc pull open the canvas cargo cover and verify there's nobody in the bed. I nod to Ratchet and the two of us draw the bayonets from our belts. We inch forward toward the two TECs who are still mesmerized by Hatchet's performance. She fakes a giggle as she sees the two of us rush forward. Ratchet and I grab the TECs around their necks from behind and slip our blades underneath their backplates and into their kidneys. They put up a bit of a struggle, but soon begin to lose consciousness as they bleed out internally.

"That's my wife, assh…" Ratchet spits into the ear of his TEC as the enemy falls limply to the ground. "Baby, I thought we talked about this," he says to Hatchet. "No showing off your stuff to anyone but me anymore."

"_Aw sorry, honey_," she says sarcastically as she begins to remove the armor from the smaller of the two dead TECs. "Guess I just couldn't resist."

"Now what are you doing, Sergeant?" Doc asks as he sees her remove the fallen TECs breastplate.

"Ratch," she says to her husband. "Put on that other one's armor. He's about your size."

"Got another idea?" I ask her.

"Well, I figure a couple of TEC officers are a lot less suspicious if they're being driven around Germania in an official military vehicle by two enlisted grunts."

"I like your logic, Sergeant."

"Sir, get in the back with Doc and Tiller. Ratch, you can drive this thing, right?"

"It's a cargo truck. What do you think I hauled my parts around in when I was a mechanic on the line?"

"Is that a 'yes' then?" she says as she slips the first fallen TECs armor on.

"_Yes_," he says self-consciously.

"Good," she says wrapping her hair back into a tight bun and then slipping on the helmet. She pulls an ID card off of the dead TEC's belt and then helps Ratchet into his suit of armor. She rips off the other TECs ID card and hands it to him. "Don't lose this. I have a feeling we're gonna need it."

After disposing of the enemies' corpses in a nearby drainage culvert, Hatchet and Ratchet climb up into the cab and the rest of us climb into the cargo bed. Doc and Tiller secure the canvas cover closed as I check to see what exactly is in the containers that the TECs were hauling. I open the lid and my eyes grow wide with surprise.

"You guys alright back there?" Hatchet shouts to us.

"Hatch, I'm not sure those two knew what they were hauling…"

"What makes you say that, Sir?" Tiller and Doc look over and fall as dumbstruck as I am.

"Because there's about five-hundred million in TEC hard currency back here…"

"WHAT!" she and Ratchet shout as Tiller, Doc, and I stare down at pallet after pallet of bank notes all bearing Grosfrere's heroic looking portrait.

"Why the hell would two soldiers be driving around with that much money in their truck?" Hatchet yells.

"Probably taken from around the TEC to prevent it from falling into rebel hands. Either way, I don't care," I say back to her. "_But it does give me an idea_."

We speed down the highway toward Germania. We pass checkpoint after checkpoint, but all it takes is a flash of the stolen ID cards and a glance into the bed to see three officers escorting cargo containers marked with the personal seal of the Supreme Lawgiver for us to be waved straight through without a problem.

We pass disgusting monument after disgusting monument, all bearing Grosfrere's sneering face. Statues, murals, fountains…apparently his narcissism knows no limit. I'm just happy that soon, I'll be able to wipe that smug look of superiority off his face by leveling his most precious symbol of power.

Finally, we reach the government district and the "The Heart" itself. The massive marble pyramid is almost blinding as it glistens in the bright afternoon sun. Soon, the end of the day will come, and the legions of government workers loyal to Grosfrere will pour out of these buildings, and that's when my plan will come into play. But before we can make anything happen, we have to find some kind of escape route. We may die on this mission, but I at least want a chance of getting out of this nightmarish place.

We drive through the square in front of Grosfrere's balcony. The portraits of the previous Supreme Lawgivers stare out with silent intimidation. I just wish I could somehow speak to the ghosts of those tyrants past and tell them that their time of domination over this place is finally at an end. We pull around the rear of "The Heart to another smaller square surrounded by white marble office buildings and find what we're looking for. Ratchet parks the truck as Tiller and I stare out through a gap in the canvas cover.

"Right there, Sir," he says pointing to huge pair of sliding doors at the rear of "The Heart." There is a chain link gate with a guard shack that leads down a ramp to a loading dock. In the garage above the dock, we see several hovercrafts bearing the seal of the TEC parked and waiting for officials who need rapid transport around the country.

"You think those things will have enough range to get us back to Britannia?"

"I don't see why not, Sir. They look like they have the fuel capacity."

"Ok, they're our ride home then," I say to Tiller and Doc. "Now, all we have to do is wait for the right moment."

We don't have to wait long. At 1700 hours, Streams of workers begin to flood out of the buildings around "The Heart," turning the empty traffic circle in front of the access gate into a sea of people almost instantaneously. _It's time to go._ I nod to Tiller who kicks open the tailgate and throws open the canvas bed cover. Doc joins me next to the cargo containers.

"Alright, everyone," I shout. "Hold onto something! Floor it, Ratch!" Ratchet revs the engine and slams down the accelerator, sending the truck hurtling at top speed right for the access gate.


	78. Freedom's Call Chapter 23

The guards at the gate see the truck coming right at them. They begin to panic and raise their weapons to open fire, but at the last second before impact, I give the command to Ratchet.

"_Now!_" He yanks on the wheel as hard as he can, sending the truck into a left spin at almost a ninety-degree angle. The tires screech as the truck skids straight through the chain link fence. The guards dive out of the way just in time as jagged wire and debris scatters everywhere. At the moment of impact, Doc and I push the open cargo containers of money out of the tailgate. They fly out of the back of the truck and shatter against the pavement, sending a gigantic cloud of cash scattering across the entire area.

Despite, the fact that Grosfrere claims that the Trans-European Commonwealth is a utopia where nobody wants for anything, I know the truth…_and human nature_. The crowd of civilians, who all stood in shock at the sight of the truck rushing toward the gate, see the money half strewn across the ground and half still floating in the air, and surge forward as one mindless mass in a free-for-all to grab as much currency as possible. The gate guards are helpless against the tide of people all pushing and shoving each other in a wild frenzy to pick up the bills. Once I see that our cover is established, we all bail out of the truck and sprint as fast as possible toward the loading dock at the rear of "The Heart."

We reach our objective and look back just long enough to see that the crowd of civilians has still not abated. Men, women, the young, the old, everyone is snatching bank note after bank note and shoving them into every available purse, pocket, and billfold as smiles and laughter glow across their faces.

"You know it's kind of ironic," Doc says as we run through the loading dock toward a door that leads inside the massive building.

"What is that, Doc?" I say as we make our way inside.

"Grosfrere is finally providing for his people just as he said he would…_though I don't think this is quite what he ever intended_." We all manage a final laugh before disappearing into the bowels of the pyramid.

Amelia sent us the schematics of the inside of "The Heart" before we left Britannia. I made sure my team memorized the path toward the central mainframe at the center of the structure knowing that as soon as we entered the building, we would be under surveillance. Simply put, _we don't have any time to spend looking around._

The Mockingjays move silently through the empty white halls. It is extremely disorienting in this place. I guess the Lawgivers designed it so that any attackers that made it as far as we have would become hopelessly lost and be easy targets for the guards. I casually glance up at the ceiling and see row after row of translucent black plastic globes.

"_Security sensors_," I think. No doubt they not only see every move we make, but can also _hear _everything we say as well. That is why I ordered the team to maintain absolute silence inside. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. Hopefully, the security staff monitoring the cameras will only see a group of uniformed soldiers and pay us no mind.

"_Or maybe we'll be really lucky and they'll all have abandoned their posts to go join the dash for the cash outside,_" I let myself think to calm my nerves a little.

After a few minutes of walking down endless generic passageways and rounding several nondescript corners, we come to a pair of large double doors. I know from studying Amelia's holographics, there's a two-story storage bay on the other side that cuts past the main offices. On the other side of the bay, there's a second set of doors that leads to another winding path of hallways. At the end of that maze, _is our target_.

Hatchet asks permission to enter with a look when she reaches the doors. My only response is a subtle nod. She pushes the portals open and we step inside. More cargo containers are stacked neatly in long rows. We sneak through the lines of boxes, trying not to lose any of the momentum we've gained. I look forward across the bay and see the next set of doors on the other side of a large area where there are no cargo containers. A single thought passes through my mind:

_"This is too easy…"_

Perhaps, I jinxed us because just as soon as we enter the open.

"_Click, Click, Click, Click, Click,_" The sound of a hundred rifles cocking echoes off the cement walls of the storage bay. We all freeze in our tracks and slowly look up. The catwalk above us that rings the second story of the bay is a solid wall of TEC soldiers, and every single one of them has a weapon pointed directly at us.

"Um ok…" Tiller mutters.

"So, now what, Sir?" Hatchet whispers.

"_I don't know who you are…._" A familiar voice echoes around the bay, "but you've managed to enter my private city of Germania, stolen my personal property in the form of that currency truck, corrupted my people with unbridled greed and avarice, and then unlawfully entered the most secure building in the entire Trans-European Commonwealth…._my congratulations_ _on your incredible skill._ I shall truly enjoy watching you die." My heart begins to pound in my chest as the TEC soldiers silently part and reveal their leader. For the first time, I find myself face to face with the Man Among Men himself, the Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere.

He doesn't wear the armor that I saw him in during his last broadcast. Instead, he is dressed in a bright white jacket and slacks. Rows of medals jangle across his chest with every tiny movement he makes. He stares down at us from the catwalk with an apathetic disgust, I imagine it is a look very similar to the one a lion would give a mouse before he dispatches it with a swipe of his mighty paw. Little does he know_, this mouse is a lion as well_.

"Please, if you would be so kind, remove those helmets, Gentlemen," Grosfrere continues in his arrogant diatribe. "I do prefer to see the look of terror in an enemy's eyes as he begs for mercy."

I reach up and pull off my helmet, but it is not a look of terror that I send back in his direction.

"You know, you're a lot shorter than I imagined," I say as I drop the helmet to the ground with a clattering thud. Grosfrere looks back at my face with stunned silence as the rest of my team follows my lead and removes their helmets as well. We all stare back at him with angry defiance.

Slowly, a grin creeps across the Supreme Lawgiver's face. Without warning, he throws back his head and laughs with an evil cackle that sends shivers down my spine.

"Fortune smiles on me again!" he shouts as the rest of the TECs continue motionlessly pointing their rifles directly at our heads. "General Ares Snow _himself_ trapped like a rat in a trap. This is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I couldn't have planned this coup de grace better myself."

"What makes you think you're so lucky, Pierre?" I spit back at him defiantly. "Only one of us is going to be breathing when all this is said and done."

"You're absolutely right, General," he says back at me. "Your execution will be broadcast live to the entire civilized world…_after we've extracted all the useful information we can from you and your other assassins, of course_."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"Why yes…_yes it is_," he replies with a sinister grin. "Why don't you make it as easy as you can on yourself and just throw down your weapons now. I tell you what. If you drop to your knees right now, swear your eternal allegiance to the Supreme Lawgiver, and tell me everything you know about Panem and Britannia's defenses, I will even grant you the mercy of a quick and painless death."

I look across to the faces of Hatchet, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc. All of them say with their eyes what they couldn't express with a million eloquent words. If we're going down_….we're going down together_. I feel the Mockingjay pin underneath my stolen TEC breastplate press into my chest. Katniss' defiant spirit courses through my veins. Here, in the house of my enemy, under the supposedly omnipotent gaze of another dictator, I am faced with the same choice that she made twenty-eight years ago: _beg for mercy or death on my own terms._

I always wondered what she was feeling at the moment that sixteen-year-old girl placed those berries in her mouth. Was it fear, regret…or maybe even anger? Sadly, I will never know for sure, but I hope that it is what I'm feeling at this moment. I have driven seventy-ton death machines into battle, fought against enemies that outnumbered me a hundred to one and survived, and commanded an army of tens of thousands, but I have never felt as truly powerful as I do at this moment. Lizzy and Octavian's faces flash through my mind one final time.

"_Goodbye my loves..._" I think as the fear of losing them lifts from my soul. I can finally die at peace. "You know, Pierre," I say with a smug, satisfied tone. "I was hoping that you'd know me better than that by now."

"What do you mean?" Grosfrere says with a puzzled look.

"_I don't surrender_."

Before the words are even out of mouth, my weapon is flying to my shoulder faster than any of the enemy can comprehend. I point my muzzle in Grosfrere's direction and pull the trigger. A burst of rounds grazes his head, sending him backwards into the wall with a loud

"_ARGHH!_"

He places his hand over the bleeding wound in his scalp and bolts for the door. The sight of their god-like leader wounded like a mere mortal stuns the other TECs just long enough for us to realize that there may be hope still. The five of us rush toward another stack of cargo containers at the far end of the storage bay near the doors that lead further inside the pyramid.

Tragically, one of our enemies is not as fazed as the rest. Just as I reach the cover of the cargo containers, another burst of gunfire echoes off the walls.

"_AHHHHH_" a scream shrieks out directly behind me as we all dive behind the thick metal of the cargo containers. The other TECs open fire as well and thousands of bullets pepper the walls around us covering our huddled position with tiny chucks of concrete and cement dust. I turn around and shout to the others:

"Who's hit?" I look down to the floor and see Hatchet. She cradles Ratchet in her arms. Blood pours from three neat holes cut through his side. Doc is instantly on him, stripping the armor off his chest and examining the wounds. Tiller and I begin shooting back at the TECs to provide him cover while he works.

"You're gonna be ok, Ratch," Doc says as he places a pressure dressing around Ratchet's midsection. It looks a lot worse than it is. If I can slow down this bleeding, a good surgeon will be able to patch you up in no time.

"Bulls…!" he shouts through his pain. "We're in the middle of freakin' Germania, Doc. You think that there's a lot of good surgeons around here?"

"I've got plenty of hepera blood extender, Brother," Doc says still working furiously as Tiller and I continue firing back at the TECs who still haven't forgotten we're here. "It will hold you until we get to Britannia."

"F… that. All I'll do is slow you down. Take the tri-lithium, and get to the mainframe! I'll hold them off for as long as I can before you blow the place. Just get the hell out of here!"

"_No!_" Hatchet screams as tears begin to stream down her face. "I won't leave you here to die alone!"

"Baby," Ratchet says with a loving look in his eyes. "The time I've spent with you has been the happiest of my life. _But you_…you don't need a disgusting idiot like me. Sure, it may hurt for a while, but then you'll find somebody else and you'll be happier than you ever were with a stupid Grease Monkey like me."

"_You're wrong!_" Hatchet says now crying uncontrollably. "I love you, Clint! You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. No one else could ever replace you in my heart, and if I lose you, we'll be alone the rest of our lives."

"What do you mean '_we?_" Ratchet asks confused over the deafening noise of the gunfire.

Hatchet leans over him and smiles.

"_I'm pregnant."_


	79. Freedom's Call Chapter 24

"WHAT!" The other four of us shout simultaneously. Tiller and I are so shocked that we briefly forget to keep firing at the TECs and Doc nearly sticks himself with a syringe of hepra mixed with morphling meant for Ratchet.

_"What do you mean you're pregnant?"_ I scream at her turning my gaze back to the enemy.

"Well Sir," Hatchet yells back at me, "When a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"I know what pregnant means, smartass!" I shout back angrily as I shoot a TEC who's exposed himself up on the catwalk. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Hatchet's motion sickness, her incredible appetite, her distraught response to Ratchet's comments about leaving the service to have a family. I just can't believe I was stupid enough not to realize it earlier.

"Are you sure?" Ratchet says to her with a huge smile on his face. It seems Hatchet's news has given him a new reason to hang on to life.

"Yeah," she says nodding her head. "I found out just before we left Britannia." When I hear that last statement, I flash an angry look back at Doc.

"Don't look at me!" he says defensively. "I didn't have a freakin' clue."

"Sergeant," I shout irately at Hatchet again. "Don't you think that might have been something you wanted to mention _before_ we left?"

"Of course, I wasn't going to tell you, Sir," she replies. "Then you wouldn't have let me come on the invasion."

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I WOULDN'T HAVE LET YOU COME!" I scream even louder. "Tiller!"

"Yes Sir," he replies still firing at the TECs wildly.

"Stay here with Doc, Ratchet, and Hatchet. I'll take the tri-lithium and head for the mainframe. Once I've planted the charge, I'll come back and we'll find some way out of this godforsaken hell-hole."

"I'm coming to!" Hatchet shouts as she rips open Ratchet's pack and pulls out the tri-lithium case and her throwing axe.

"Like hell you are!" I say as I spin around and reach for the explosives. Hatchet grabs my collar with an iron grasp and holds her axe in front of my face.

"Do you really want to piss me off even more right now, Sir? I'm the deadliest woman on two continents, my hormones are going freakin' insane, and my husband just got shot!" I flash an angry look at her, but she doesn't budge. "Don't tell me you're gonna do this thing stupid and solo, Sir. You still need someone to watch your back."

"Fine," I say giving in. "Just stay a few feet behind me. Remember, you're fighting for two now!" We take our positions and get ready to run. "Covering fire!" I shout to Tiller who sprays a burst in the direction of the surviving TECs. It gives us just enough time to dash to the doors and burst into the hallway beyond.

Hatchet and I begin slowly making our way toward the central mainframe with our rifles at the ready. There's no point in being stealthy. Now, it's kill or be killed.

"I can't believe you lied to me!" I say to her.

"I never lied, Sir! I just failed to mention something."

"Something pretty damn important!" I say as we get ready to clear a corner. I take high and Hatchet takes low as we spin around the turn and make sure the hallway beyond is clear.

"Why are you so upset, Sir?" Hatchet asks. "I'd thought you'd be happier for me."

"Of course, I'm happy for you," I say as we continue moving forward. "But there's a reason I would have left you back in Britannia in your compromised condition." Suddenly, two TEC soldiers fly around another corner a few feet in front of us and raise their weapons. Hatchet dispatches both of them with two controlled bursts from her rifle.

"Are you sure that I'm compromised, Sir?" she asks with a smug smirk. As we pass over the bodies, Hatchet reaches down and grabs the bandoliers from across their chests.

"Of course _your skills_ aren't compromised, Olivia. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she says sounding a little insulted. We round another corner and are soon face to face with a set of heavy reinforced steel doors. Behind them, is the very center of "The Heart" and our target.

"You're compromised because you're no longer responsible just for your life anymore."

"I've always been responsible for other lives, Sir! Ratchet's, Tiller's, Doc's….not to mention, _yours_."

"Yes, but all of us volunteered to be here, Hatch. That baby inside of you didn't ask to be in a warzone. It's counting on you to keep it safe from harm. Honestly, is the reason you didn't tell Ratchet as soon as you found out is because you were afraid he'd tell you the same thing that I'm tell you now?" I check the door to the mainframe. Is it secured by a heavy lock controlled by an electronic key pad. I immediately rip open the control panel and begin to try to splice the wires to release the mechanism. "Dammit, I wish Ratchet was here," I mutter as I work. "I was never very good at this."

"Maybe," she says quietly responding to my last comment. "But Sir, you have to understand something too."

"And that is?"

"Remember when Ratchet asked you if the mission was worth it, and you said that you hoped your family would understand?"

"Yes," I say softly as I splicing two wires together.

"Well, this baby inside me is family…but so are you, Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc! I could never abandon you all right when you needed me the most. I knew back in the rear that I would be far more help here on the front lines fighting side by side with you all than I would ever be to anyone back in Britannia. _Do you understand, Sir?_ Like it or not, you know that I could never be the woman who sits at home with the kids waiting for her Spartan to come home on his shield_._ I have to fight. _It's who I am._"

As much as it kills me to admit it, I know that she's right. All of us owe this woman our lives a dozen times over, and splitting up the team on her account would seem like a disservice to everything she's done. I pull the last two wires out of the control panel and slice off their ends.

"Just promise me you'll be careful in there, Hatch. Not only for your sake, but for Ratchet's as well. Now, he has two loved ones to worry about."

"As long as you promise you'll be as careful as me, Sir." I smile at her as I splice the exposed ends of the wires together and the doors unlock with a loud

_"Click"_

"Ready?" I ask picking up my weapon.

"Always, Sir." She reaches up and grabs the latch. "_After you_."

I bolt inside with Hatchet right on my heels. We raise our weapons, scanning the surroundings. It takes a moment to comprehend the scale of this room. It is a massive hemisphere, large enough to hold an entire squadron of hovercrafts with room to spare. Black curtains of ten-foot tall computer towers arranged like the spokes of a wheel radiate from the center of the room. The focal point glimmers with an eerie white light that bounces off the dull metal of the curved outer walls.

Hatchet and I exchange silent glances. We know that our target rests in the center of this chamber, but we also know that we're definitely not alone in here. Slowly, the two of us move in between the banks of towers, scanning for the enemy we can feel in our guts must be close by. As we near the center, we finally see what is emitting the strange glow. It is a sphere, shimmering brilliantly with pure white light.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Grosfrere's disembodied voice echoes off the metal walls. "It took my predecessors over a century to design and build this processor. As you probably already know, we call the building you're standing in, 'The Heart.' What you probably _don't_ _know_, is that we call this computer mainframe, 'The Soul.' A Supreme Lawgiver can manipulate every aspect of life in the entire Trans-European Commonwealth with this amazing device. In microseconds, I can order troops from Polskia to Iberia, change the food ration allowance for Norwegia, and access every audio and visual sensor in a Grecian village that's buried in the middle of the mountains. Every piece of data, every intelligence report, and every camera feed from the entire nation is all at my fingertips. It would be impossible to run this autocracy without it."

_"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say," _I think to myself.

"We already know all about this place, Pierre," I shout back to him. "How do we think we stopped those missiles?"

"Yes, a rather unfortunate and embarrassing incident for me, but inconsequential in the long run."

"How do you figure that, Pierre?" I say as Hatchet and I continue to maneuver between the claustrophobic banks of equipment. "I'd say you've pretty much lost this war. We've landed on the continent, defeated your army on the battlefield, and _I'm about to kill the Supreme Lawgiver_."

"Such arrogance, General!" Grosfrere says in a taunting tone that reminds me a bit of Ohm. "You're trapped in _my_ fortress, remember?"

"I may be in your fortress, but I'm certainly not trapped."

. "Oh really? Are you sure about that?" The way he says the last part sets me a little on edge. "You see, the reason that I'm here is that I knew you would try to attack 'The Soul,' so I prepared a few little surprises for you."

"Does that mean you're going to come out and fight me like a man, Grosfrere?" I say.

"Why no, General Snow, that's why I have them."

Suddenly, a squad of TEC soldiers appears from behind a bank of computer towers and opens fire. Hatchet dives one way for cover behind a row of equipment and I dive the other. Now, a hail of TEC bullets separates us from each other. We look across into each other's faces, knowing we've come too far to be stopped now. The others are counting on us to get back to them as soon as possible. It's now or never.

"Sir," Hatchet shouts to me as gunfire ricochets around her. "This is it, right?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this is what we've been fighting for since the start of this damned war, right?"

"I suppose so," I shout in reply.

"That why don't we go out with a bang?" She pulls out two hand grenades and tosses one across to me.

"Where the hell did you get these?"

"Off those two dead TECs in the hallway back there. I figured, if the grenade thing worked for us before, why not go for it again?"

"Aren't you worried the shock from the blasts will set off the tri-lithium?"

"I mean do we really have a choice?" she replies.

"Guess not…On three?" I ask.

"One…two…_three_!" We pull the pins and throw the grenades toward the source of the gunfire.

"_BOOM!_" they detonate simultaneously. The sound of crunching metal, smashing plastic, and sizzling wires fills the air as the banks of computer towers topple around the sight of the blasts. Hatchet and I jump from our covered positions and quickly dispatch the remaining disoriented TEC soldiers with bursts from our rifles.

"Anyone else for us to kill, Pierre?" I shout as I continue scanning for him.

"You really do want to be difficult, don't you, General? _Fine_." The silhouette of Grosfrere appears in the bright white of the glowing sphere. I raise my rifle and fire, but he is already gone by the time I pull the trigger. I dash forward after him, completely focused on ending his reign of terror once and for all.

"Sir, WAIT!" Hatchet screams from behind me. I don't listen. I want Grosfrere so bad I can taste it. I reach the end of the banks of computer towers and see him standing directly in front of the sphere surrounded by a halo of white light. But before I can savor my kill…._my luck runs out_.

"_Just one more little surprise for you, General_," Grosfrere says with a smirk as he presses a remote control detonator hidden in his palm. I hear a faint beeping directly beneath my feet. I look down and realize that the floor where I'm standing is ringed with a row of anti-personnel mines. I try to run back towards Hatchet, but it's too late.

_"BOOM!"_ the mines explode, lifting me off my feet and sending me flying through the air. Then, there is only blackness.

I regain consciousness a few seconds later. I'm lying on the ground staring up at the rounded, metallic ceiling. The entire world seems stuck in slow motion. I sense a throbbing pain in my head and I realize that I can't see anything out of my left eye. I roll over onto my stomach and catch a glimpse of Grosfrere, staring at me with sadistic satisfaction. I try crawling towards him, but quickly realize that my body seems hopelessly off-balanced. My arms slip and slide on the metal floor, trying to get traction. When I look down to figure out why, I see that a pool of my blood has soaked the entire ground.

I look up again at Grosfrere just in time to see his look of satisfaction turn to one of terror. Hatchet appears from behind me, sprinting towards him like a predator. He turns to run, but in one incredibly graceful motion, she jumps into the air, twists sideways, and sends her axe flying into his back. As the metal head buries itself in his flesh, he collapses to the ground in a heap. Hatchet is on him immediately. I watch as she rips the weapon out of his back, and dispatches the Supreme Lawgiver with several brutal, merciless hacks to his skull.

I try to push myself up, but feel incredibly weak and dizzy. Suddenly, Hatchet is standing over me. I see her mouth moving, but her words seem faint and far away.

"It's ok, Sir." She says looking into my face. "You're going to be ok, I promise. The throbbing in my head grows worse and suddenly I'm aware of another horrible pain in my left leg. Hatchet starts to pull off her belt. She keeps talking to me very calmly and directly. "Sir, don't look down, ok? Just don't look down."

"Why not?" I try to ask her but the only thing that makes it out of my lips is a few garbled sounds of gibberish. Hatchet reaches down to my thigh and I feel her wrap the belt around it tightly. My head instinctively leans forward and I immediately realize why she didn't want me looking down. Half-way down my thigh, there is only a gaping, bloody stump. My entire left leg is missing. The shock hits and I lose consciousness immediately.

I manage to open my eyes again. I'm lying across Doc's shoulders as he runs down a white hallway. Tiller is next to us, carrying Ratchet who looks awake, but in severe pain. I hear the sound of gunfire echoing around me. Hatchet is screaming something I don't understand. With all the force I can muster, I look over to see her firing her rifle wildly at a group of TECs pursuing us.

Some lucidity briefly returns as I finally make out her words.

"Get to the hangar! She shouts without looking away from the enemy. "Get to the hangar! We've got less than five minutes." I slip into unconsciousness again.

My eyes open once more. I feel a cold breeze whipping all around me, and hear the deafening roar of turbines. The entire world is moving and shaking violently. I look over to my left, see the open side door of a hovercraft, and realize that we're flying above and away from the center of Germania as the outline of "The Heart" grows smaller and smaller in the distance. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light in the dark night sky and I see the pyramid fall in on itself and collapse. My head is still spinning. I know I should be happy, but I cannot remember why. I look up and realize that Doc is kneeling above me, working on the stump where my left leg once was. My left eye is still blind.

"Tiller!" he shouts toward the cockpit. "You've got to fly faster, His vitals are crashing! I'm losing him!" Hatchet is screaming something again. I'm not sure, but it sounds like,

"We're all gonna make it home together." I hear Tiller's voice scream back from the cockpit.

"We're already at max speed! I can't go any faster without flying it apart!"

"FLY IT APART THEN!" Hatchet screams furiously.

"_No…_" I manage to whisper through my blood soaked lips. "Get home safely…" My words cause Doc and Hatchet to lean in close.

I stare at Doc's face and smile.

"Doc, it's ok. Don't worry," I say reaching out a crimson stained hand and patting his leg. "You did all you could." Hatchet kneels next to him with tears in her eyes. "Olivia…"

"Yes Sir," she says to me over the roar of the turbines.

"Thank Tiller for everything…and tell Ratchet he's a lucky man….and you're going to be a great mom…." Suddenly, the world starts spinning.

"Sir!" Hatchet screams at me. "Sir, stay with us!"

"His pressure is dropping," I hear Doc say as my vision disappears into a red blur. "I've got to knock him out." I feel the tiny prick of a needle in my arm, and the world turns black for the last time.


	80. Freedom's Call Chapter 25

It feels like I'm floating in a warm pond. I can sense that I'm lying on something soft, with sheets and a blanket pulled over me. Bandages cover the left side of my head and they're pressing hard on my left eye. It hurts, but the pain is manageable. I hear soft breathing hovering above me, and with a gargantuan effort, I open my right eye. I smile as I see the face that's looking down at me.

"Welcome Home, Soldier," Katniss says with a smile. "_You look like shit_."

"You always had a talent for telling like it is," I reply with labored breaths. "Where am I?"

"Capitol Memorial Hospital back in the good ole UD of P."

"_Panem_," I think. "_I'm home_." Then, I remember the circumstances of my homecoming. I try to bolt upright, but Katniss' firm hand holds me down.

"Easy, there, Ares. Take it easy. You're still pretty banged up."

"Where's the rest of the team?" I say a little louder than I should.

"Ah, Lizzy said you might ask about them," Katniss says taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "Don't worry, they made it back to Britannia just fine. They hovercraft you stole got shot to hell trying to get out of TEC airspace, but no one else got injured. The other Mockingjays stayed behind to recover, but your injuries were so severe that they decided to MEDEVAC you back to Panem immediately." It's then I realize that I must have been unconscious for quite some time.

"How long have I been out?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Katniss asks.

"I remember being in the hovercraft," I recall with a lot of effort, "and then 'The Heart' exploded behind us," I pause as I remember looking up at Hatchet and Doc, and the painful expressions on their faces."Then, I said my goodbyes and I was out."

"Ares," Katniss says preparing me for the shock. "That was almost three weeks ago." I collapse back on my pillow, and swallow hard as I brace for more bad news. Someone who's been in the military as long as I have knows that you don't stay unconscious that long if something isn't seriously wrong with you.

"How bad?" I ask firmly.

"Ares, I'm not a doctor…" Katniss says trailing off.

"No, but you're a warrior like me. How bad?"

"You're lucky to be alive, Snow," she says with a lump in her throat. "The surgeons managed to repair most of the cosmetic damage to your face and chest, and they've already attached an artificial leg…"

"But…" I say knowing that she's preparing me for something else.

"They had to remove your left eye. There was nothing left to salvage. Also, the nerves in your legs are so messed up, that you'll probably never walk without a cane again."

"But at least I'll be able to walk…" I say trailing off.

"But at least you'll be able to walk," she says with a reassuring smile.

"I suppose spending the rest of my life as a half-blind cripple isn't as bad as not having a rest of my life," I say managing a chuckle. Katniss' smile grows wider.

"Lizzy would definitely agree with that."

"_Lizzy!_" I think as my one remaining eye darts around the room. "Where is she?" I ask anxiously.

"Checking in on Octavian," Katniss says softly. "She's been by your side night and day, but she didn't want him seeing you until you've healed up a bit more." I nod my head knowing that Lizzy's instincts were right. There was no telling what kind of mental shape I'd be in when I regained consciousness. "That's why she called me. She needed help and knew that you'd probably want to see me. Don't worry, she'll be back soon."

"Peeta and the kids here to?"

"No," Katniss says. "He's still with them back in 12."

"Probably for best," I say with a nod. "Their lives have already been screwed up enough by this war."

"Luckily, it won't be going on much longer," Katniss says with another smile.

"What?" I ask surprised.

"_You destroyed their entire command and control, Snow,_" Katniss says. "The body of their sacred leader is still rotting under thousands of tons of shattered marble. When word got out, the entire TEC army collapsed. Rebels are pushing on Germania from the east and our army is less than a hundred miles away to the west. The TEC's done, Ares. The only reason they haven't surrendered yet is they're not sure anybody left alive in their government has the authority to surrender."

I close my right eye and exhale a relaxing sigh.

"_We won," _I think as I'm finally able to truly relax for the first time in almost two years. "I'm really glad you're here," I say looking at her again.

"_I know._ That's why I came, I knew you'd need me," she says a bit bashfully. I'm not sure if it's the morphling coursing through my bloodstream or if it really is the time to say to her what comes out of my mouth next.

"_I love you, Katniss._"

"Ares," she says as her face turns bright red. "Lizzy told me how you really feel about me, but you have to understand, I barely have enough maternal instinct to take care of two kids. I don't know if I can take care of a third…"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, _Girl on Fire_. You've taken care of me all your life." Katniss turns an even brighter shade of red.

"I haven't been the 'Girl on Fire,' for a very long time. You know that."

"Maybe not," I say grinning. "But you passed the flame on to me."

"And you carried it around the globe," she says as she softly places her hand on my head. Then, she reaches over to the table next to my hospital bed and picks something up. She holds it in front of my face. "Did it bring you the same amount of luck as it brought me?" My eye focuses on the object glittering in the white, florescent light. It is the Mockingjay pin.

"Right until the part I got blown to hell…" I reply. We both laugh. Then, she reaches down and pins it to my hospital gown.

"I think it's happy with its new home," she says with a smile.

"You sure? I thought Mockingjays liked warm, sunny weather?"

"What do you mean?" Katniss asks confused.

"Well, what I mean is, I thought they hated, _'The Snow?_" I chuckle but Katniss just shakes her head. Her trademark braid bobs behind her back.

"Glad to see your sense your humor is still the same," she mutters. "Seriously, that was absolutely a horrible pun." We both laugh again, but then I look over to the doorway. A figure is standing there, holding her hands over her face as she cries with relief and joy.

"Hey there, Beautiful," I say softly as I recognize the only woman in the world I love more than Katniss Everdeen Mellark. Lizzy just bolts over to my hospital bed and wraps her arms me. She squeezes so tight that a wave of pain courses through my wrecked body. "I love you too, but…._ow_." I say with a labored chuckle.

"I'm sorry!" Lizzy says immediately letting go.

"It's fine, it's fine," I say looking into her gorgeous eyes for the first time since we were separated. "But what I really was looking forward to was a kiss." Lizzy dives forward and our lips meet. The brilliant smell of the sea fills my nostrils again. I swear at that moment that it will never leave them again.


	81. Freedom's Call Chapter 26

Lizzy helps me get dressed in my uniform. The television in the hospital room is turned to live news coverage of a monumental event that everyone in the country is glued to…except for the two of us. Despite, it's significance, I pay it little attention. Something far more important is about to happen.

"There we go," Lizzy says fitting a black patch over my left eye. "I think it will grow on me."

"Do you think it will scare him?" I ask nervously.

"He'll have to get used to it either way," Lizzy says softly. "Besides, it makes you like a pirate. _He likes pirates_," she says as we both enjoy a laugh. I lean on the bed for support as I wobble over to pick up my new cane.

"I could have used a little more time to practice with this," I say leaning on the black piece of wood as I take a few labored steps around the room. Lizzy walks over and pins the Mockingjay over my nametag.

"They'll be plenty of time for that, I'm afraid. But you're still the same man I married and the same father to him." She pulls out a handkerchief and polishes the golden Mockingjay to a bright shine. "As long as you remember that, we'll all be fine."

The news begins to pick up as three o'clock in the afternoon strikes in Germania. Our attention briefly turns to the screen as President Holmes and Angus walk down a red carpet towards a table that has been set up in front of the remains of "The Heart." Five TEC officials and high-ranking military officers in their shiny dress armor watch the approach of the victorious entourage with a mix of humiliation and dread. Air Brigadier Valderoun, Rear Admiral Flannigan, Brigadier LaSalle, and Seamus the Highlander march proudly behind the leaders of their nations as thousands of allied soldiers stand proudly at attention in the same square that once hosted Grosfrere's propaganda parades.

"Do you wish you were there?" Lizzy whispers in my ear as I gaze at the screen. I look back and stare into her gorgeous green eyes. "There's nowhere on the planet I'd rather be than right here, right now," I say softly. "But I'd probably be less nervous if I were there…" I say trailing off.

"You'll be fine," as she kisses my cheek reassuringly.

President Holmes and Angus approach the table. Two TEC soldiers appear carrying a huge sheet of parchment bound in leather. They place it on the table in front of the TEC officials and hand the head of the defeated delegation a pen. He looks up to the unyielding glares of Driva and Angus one more time, before he sighs and signs his name to the parchment. One by one, the other TEC officials and officers do the same. Finally, Angus and Driva march around behind the table and sign their names with a broad flourish.

Silently, Driva walks around to a podium set up next to the table, pulls the microphone close to her mouth, and sends her voice echoing around the entire planet.

"The war between the Trans-European Commonwealth and the allied powers of Britannia and the United Districts of Panem is over!" An incredible cheer erupts from the soldiers around them. I hear that cheer echoed in the streets of the Capitol outside my hospital window. Our world is finally at peace.

President Holmes continues her speech, but I barely listen to her plan about how the Trans-European Commonwealth will be dissolved and an interim government will be established under Brigadier LaSalle until a permanent, democratic government can be established by the various resistance groups.

_"Another kid from District 6 ruling an entire continent. Not bad, LaSalle,"_ I think with a smile. I know that Driva didn't recommend him solely on the fact that she and him grew up in the same place, but knowing her, it probably didn't hurt.

Angus speaks next about how Britannia's days of isolation and hardship are over and that the little island will finally be able to rejoin the other European nations in peace and harmony. No disrespect, to my old friend, but I don't even listen to the end of his speech because Finnick appears in the doorway of my room.

"He's ready," Finnick says stepping inside. He walks over as Lizzy helps me get to my feet.

"Finnick," I say turning my good eye towards him. "I haven't gotten the chance to thank you for everything you've done for us."

"No, brother," he says reaching out his hand to mine. "Thank you."

The three of us slowly make our way to the elevator. As the door closes, Finnick presses the button for the rooftop garden. The following seconds are some of the longest of my life.

The door opens and the brilliant morning sun shimmers off the flowers and plants of the garden. I slowly walk out onto the grass, leaning heavily on my cane. Lizzy and Finnick step out behind me, but stay back and hold their breaths.

I look out and see the small boy playing with a teddy bear who was just a baby when I last held him. His back is to me, and he pretends not to notice my presence. I take a few more steps toward him, and with a tremendous effort I kneel down behind my son.

"Hello, Octavian," I say softly as he keeps ignoring me and playing with his bear. "I'm sorry I've been away so long, but I'm back for good now. The bad guys are gone." He still ignores me. I start to get very nervous. If he refuses to talk, I don't know what I'll do.

Finally, he speaks and I hear his voice for the first time in person.

"You promised you wouldn't get hurt," Octavian says without turning around.

"I know I promised," I reply softly, "but Daddy made a big mistake and he's really sorry. I know you're probably not up for another promise, Little Man, but this time, I mean it. _I promise I won't leave you and Mommy again_."

Suddenly, he turns around and looks right into me with his sea-green eyes.

"Do you really mean it?" he says with resolve beyond his years as he clutches his bear to his chest.

"Yes, I do," I say with the same integrity as when I made my oath to Panem all those years ago and my vows to Lizzy after that.

"Then, I forgive you," he says running up to me and throwing his little arms around my neck. "I love you, Daddy." I instantly choke up and tears begin to stream from my only eye.

"I love you too, Little Man."

Three days later, Amelia, Lizzy, Katniss, Octavian, and I stand in the hangar at the new Ministry of Defense. Octavian is in little boy heaven as he runs around the rows military equipment.

"Octavian, be careful!" Lizzy shouts to him as he checks out the landing gear of an attack hovercraft. "I swear he gets into everything these days," she mutters.

"They usually do at that age," Katniss says.

"He'll be fine," I say to Lizzy. "Don't worry, I'll keep…_an eye_…on him!" Lizzy, Katniss, and Amelia just look at me and shake their heads. "What?" I say shrugging my shoulders. "Tell me that wasn't funny?"

"_That wasn't funny_," the three of them say simultaneously.

"Don't worry, I'll watch him," Katniss says walking over to Octavian. Amelia looks over to me with a smile.

"It's good to have you back, Sir," she says bashfully. I reach an arm over her shoulder and pull her close to me.

"It's good to be back, Amelia." Lizzy just smiles understandingly.

"I cannot believe that President Holmes didn't invite you to be part of the delegation," I say letting Amelia go.

"She did, actually," Amelia says. "But I told her that someone had to stay behind and run things while she and her Chief of the Defense Forces enjoyed themselves," she says with a smirk.

I look over and see that Katniss is still distracted by Octavian.

"What about Mr. Hawthorne, our esteemed Chief of Special Defense?" I ask curiously. "I haven't seen him around in a while.

"He resigned and went back to District 2 just after the invasion, Sir. Refused to tell anyone why. When President Holmes demanded an answer, he just said, 'he didn't belong here anymore and it was a different world.' Any idea what he meant by that?" I look over to Katniss as she plays with my son, laughing and joking around with the toddler like all the ghosts and demons of past battles never existed.

"No_, but I can guess…_" I say trailing off. Suddenly, alarms ring out through the hangar and the large landing doors start to slide open. Katniss picks up Octavian and carries him over to us. Octavian covers his little ears as a transport hovercraft bearing the Presidential Seal flies inside and touches down a few yards in front of us. I walk forward with my cane as the pilot cuts the engines and lowers the ramp.

President Holmes walks out first. As she nears me, I snap to the sharpest position of attention I can hold and offer her a salute.

"Welcome Home, Madam President," I say with a grin.

"I suppose I can say the same to you, General Snow. Relax, Man. You're wounded for Heaven's sake" she says as she sees Lizzy, Octavian, and Katniss. "How are you feeling, Ares?" she says concerned.

"With them, I'm getting stronger every day, Ma'am," I say with a smile.

"I'm sure that's true," she replies smiling back. "Chief McFadden sends his best to you and wishes for a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll call him tonight to let him know he doesn't have to drink alone." My thoughts turn to him and Maggie. Hopefully, she hasn't neglected her promise to him now that the war is over.

"How are you doing, Lizzy?" Driva asks as she walks up to my wife and gives her a warm embrace.

"Just fine, Ma'am," Lizzy says hugging her back.

"_Please_, your husband has to call me that, but when you say it, it just makes me feel old. Call me, 'Driva." Her attention then turns to Katniss. "Mrs. Mellark, so good to see you again."

"President Holmes," Katniss says with a polite nod. I can still see she hasn't developed a trust for politicians, and I can't really blame her.

"And look at this little gentlemen," Driva says reaching out and grabbing Octavian's little hand. "He's getting so big," she says turning back to me and Lizzy.

"I know," I say gently. "Time flies…"

President Holmes then goes to Amelia and the two of them greet each other warmly. However, I'm distracted by the voices now coming down the ramp. I admit, they're probably the real reason I'm here.

"Hello Panem!" Tiller shouts as he runs down the ramp and throws his duffel bag to the ground. He drops to all fours and kisses the floor.

"That's disgusting," Doc says walking down the ramp just after him. "Do you know how many germs are probably on that?"

"Yeah, brother, but they're _Panem germs_."

"Well, look at these guys…" I say limping up to them with my cane.

"Sir!" Tiller shouts as he jumps to his feet again. He runs over and shakes my hand. "That's badass, by the way," he says pointing to my eye patch.

"I definitely think it adds some flair to my image," I reply sarcastically.

"How are you doing, Sir?" Doc says gently.

"Real good, Doc. Yourself?"

"Fine Sir….I'm just sorry that I couldn't do more for you," he says with a lot of guilt.

"What are you talking about?" I say with a smile. "If it weren't for you, I'd be lying right next to Grosfrere's cold corpse." This reassures him, and he finally smiles.

"It's good to see you back to your old self, Sir." Suddenly, he gets a look in his eyes that surprises me because I've never seen him with it before: _affection_. I look over my shoulder and realize he's staring right at Amelia as she talks with President Holmes.

"_Well, would you look at that_," I think to myself. "_Things might work out better than I'd hoped…_"

"It's a good thing you're only in this chair another week, or else I might put you in it permanently!" I hear another set of voices coming down the hovercraft ramp.

"Yeah babe, it's been a real treat for me too…"

"You better get on your feet real quick, Grease Monkey. I'm not taking care of two babies."

"They've been going at it since we left Britannia," Tiller says turning back to me.

"It's how we know they're still in love," Doc adds. As I see Hatchet emerge from the hovercraft pushing a less than thrilled Ratchet in a wheelchair, I look back to the others. I grin from ear to ear as I think:

_"My entire family is finally back together again…"_

"Sir!" Hatchet screams as she sees me. She lets Ratchet go and dives straight at my body. I gasp as she throws her arms around me and hugs hard. I look down to see that her uniform shirt bulges a little bit as her stomach is starting to show.

"Hey, Hatch," I say as I squeeze back. Ratchet wheels himself over to the rest of us.

"Sir," he says with a salute. "It's good to see again. Can't believe that you're back on your feet before I am, but the medics we had over there apparently aren't as good as the ones back here," he says flashing Doc a mocking fake scowl.

"Don't blame me," Doc says with a slap to Ratchet's shoulder. "Blame the guy who shot you." I take the four of them over to Lizzy, Octavian, and Katniss and make the warm introductions. Just as Lizzy hands Octavian over to Hatchet to let her know what she's about to get into, I see Hatchet's eyes grow wide.

"_What are they doing here?_" she demands as she stares at the entrance to the hangar. I look over and see Johanna Mason and Thom walking towards us.

"I asked them to come," I say firmly. "I think they have a right to welcome their daughter home from war…and I think there's some things you need to talk to them about," I say looking first to Ratchet and then to her pregnant belly.

"President Holmes," Johanna says flatly with a respectful nod as she joins the party. Obviously, a distrust of politicians is not unique among survivors of the Hunger Games. She then turns her attention to her fellow Victor. "Katniss," she says with the closest thing to a warm smile I think Johanna Mason can muster.

"Hello, Johanna," Katniss says. Hatchet hands Octavian back over to her and she expertly balances him on her hip. Somehow, I think the sight of the child calms Johanna down, even if he is a Snow.

"Is Peeta here or back in 12?" Johanna asks.

"He's in 12 with Prim and Haymitch," Katniss says trying to sound warm but still a bit defensively.

"You know, we really need to get together more than once every thirty years," Johanna says with a giggle. "There's only three of us left and I need someone else to reminisce with besides Thom here. Between you and me, he's not much of a conversationalist," she says playfully as she leans over and covers her mouth with her palm like she's telling a secret. Johanna keeps smiling at Katniss who immediately begins to let her defenses down. She can tell this is a genuine olive branch and knows she should accept it.

"I'd think we'd really like that."

"Good," Johanna says. "I even promise to keep my clothes on in front of Peeta…_though it's not easy with him._" Hatchet buries her head in her hands and Katniss blushes, but not surprisingly, Thom stays stoically still. I guess he's used to this from his wife.

Then, Johanna walks right over to me. She leans over and whispers just loudly enough for her daughter to hear.

"When I talked to you at the train station, I didn't think you'd be able to do it, but thank you for bringing her home safely to us," she says glancing over to Hatchet. I smile back at her.

"She did most of the work…but you're welcome all the same." I whisper back. I look over to Hatchet with nod. Suddenly, she seems to remember just how much her parents really do care for her.

"As I remember it," Johanna says walking toward her daughter. "You weren't very happy when I forced you to learn how to use this," she says reaching down and grabbing Hatchet's axe from her belt. Johanna begins effortlessly spinning it around her finger.

"It came in handy over there," Hatchet says as the beginning of a smile starts to creep across her lips.

"I bet it did," Johanna says to her. Both of them are obviously happy right now, but neither of them wants to be the first to admit it.

"Are you gonna teach this one too?" Hatchet says rubbing her belly.

"I was hoping we'd teach that kid together, Livy." A tear runs down Johanna's cheek.

"Mom!" Hatchet can't take it anymore and throws her arms around Johanna's neck. "Hi, Daddy," Hatchet says hugging Thom next. As Hatchet introduces her mom and dad to her husband, I walk back towards Amelia, Lizzy, and Katniss.

"Glad, that worked out so well," Amelia says as she sees Ratchet shake his father-in-law's hand.

"Thanks for getting in contact with them for me," I say to Amelia.

"Like I've said a million times before, Sir, _it's my job_." I grin a bit as I finally realize that I'm about to pay Amelia back a little for the countless wonderful things she's done for me.

"Doc!" I shout. He immediately runs over. I look at Amelia's eyes, hoping beyond hope that I see the same look in hers that I saw in his. Thankfully, I see the hint of a spark as she finally looks him over.

_"It's perfect," _I think as I introduce the two of them. _"Both of them make a living out of helping people. Maybe, they can help each other now."_

"Major Flagg," I say to Amelia who still hasn't taken her eyes off of Doc. "I can't believe I haven't told you yet about how Sergeant Goldflower here saved my life…"


	82. Freedom's Call Chapter 27

The six of us stand at attention on a platform at the front of the ballroom of the Presidential Mansion. Our dress uniforms are pressed, clean, and polished, but Hatchet hasn't stopped complaining about how a tailor had to let hers out to make room for her expanding belly.

"I refuse to get fat, Sir," she said to me this morning before the ceremony. _"I'm not a tanker."_

I look out of the corner of my eye to the audience and see Lizzy and Katniss in the front row of chairs. Lizzy balances a quiet Octavian in her lap as she whispers something in Katniss' ear. I told my adopted mother that she shouldn't feel obligated to stay with us anymore, but she refused to leave until this ceremony was over.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Katniss said to me with a smile.

Johanna and Thom are still here as well. They sit a few chairs down from my family in support of their daughter and son-in-law. It is not often that awards like this are bestowed by the President herself.

Driva takes her place in front of us as the ceremony begins.

"Adjutant," she says to an officer standing off to the side of the formation. "Post the orders."

"_Attention to Orders!"_ the officer begins reading from a document in a booming voice.

_This is to certify, that the President of the United Districts of Panem has awarded the 'Cross of Valor,' Panem's highest award for Bravery to the following individuals._

_Their actions, done at the risk of their own lives on countless occasions, during the War of the Trans-European Commonwealth, greatly diminished the ability of Trans-European Commonwealth Forces to wage a campaign of aggression against both UDP and allied soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines and brought a much quicker end to the conflict, saving untold thousands of lives in the process._

President Holmes walks up to me first. An officer stands just behind her with a tray of medals. She grabs one and prepares to hang it around my neck.

"_General Ares Snow_," the adjutant continues to read.

"Congratulations," Driva says placing the medal over my head. I salute proudly.

"Thank you, Madam President."

"No, thank you," she says saluting back.

"_Sergeant First Class Olivia Hightower_." President Holmes drapes a medal around Hatchet's neck. They both chuckle as the medal comes to rest on her belly.

"_Staff Sergeant Clinton Hightower_." Ratchet proudly stands on his own two feet as he is presented his award.

"I'm happy to finally be taller than Olivia again," he joked at the dinner we all had last night at my new home just outside the Capitol.

"_Staff Sergeant Henry Goldflower_." I was very encouraged last night. Doc and Amelia arrived separately, _but left together_.

"_Staff Sergeant Julius Osprey_." Tiller couldn't stop talking about the new assignment he volunteered for next. He's been assigned to be head instructor at a new training school for pilots being established in the desert between District 1 and District 2.

"I'll be training pilots not only from Panem, but also from Britannia!" he exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink on our new carpet. "There even talking about bringing in some pilots from the old TEC now that we're rebuilding their air force."

Finally, there's only one award left to present, but unlike us, she gets her own set of orders.

"Adjutant," President Holmes says when she gets to Amelia.

_Attention to Orders! This is to certify, that the President of the United Districts of Panem has awarded the 'Cross of Valor,' Panem's highest award for Bravery to the following individual: Major Amelia Flagg_

_During the missile attack on the United Districts of Panem, then Captain Flagg had the opportunity to retreat to shelter to preserve her own safety, but at the risk of her own life, then Captain Flagg stayed at her post to coordinate the evacuation effort of civilians across the entire nation. Her quick thinking, fantastic skill, and incredible dedication to duty prevented the impact of the missiles on Panem soil and saved the lives of millions of innocent people. Her actions are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great honor upon her, the Defense Forces, and the Entire United Districts of Panem. _

President Holmes reaches for the final medal and proudly hangs it around Amelia's neck. Amelia salutes Driva, who gratefully returns it back. President Holmes then leans close to Amelia and whispers in her ear:

"They saved the country, but you saved our lives. For that, we can never repay you." Amelia then whispers something back to President Holmes that makes me almost burst out laughing in the middle of the ceremony.

"Madame President, _It's my job_."

The ceremony concludes and we begin to mill about on the platform as the audience comes up to wish us congratulations. I stand, gazing around silently until Hatchet walks up to me.

"Sir," she says gently. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course, Hatch," I reply.

"I overheard my mother talking to you yesterday. I just wanted to know what she meant by '_when I talked to you at the train station?_"

"Well, when I was saying goodbye to Katniss, Peeta, and the kids before we went to Britannia, I ran into Johanna and she and I….well, really _she_ exchanged some words."

"And they were?"

"Remember how President Holmes asked you to keep me safe over there?"

"Yes…" Hatchet says a little suspiciously.

"Let's just say that we both had a job to do over there." I think that Hatchet might get angry for a second, but then her annoyed look turns to a grin.

"I guess I owe you some thanks than to," she says reluctantly.

"Nonsense," I say flashing a grin back to her. "I think we can call it even."

Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc stride up to us and we immediately change the subject.

"So," I say to the Mockingjay team one last time before we scatter to the four winds. "We know what Tiller's plans are, but what about the rest of us? Hatch?" I ask curiously.

"Well, the short term goal is to spit this kid out alright."

"And then back to the wilds of District 7?" I ask curiously.

"Hardly," she says flashing me an indignant grin. "I'm too far in to this military thing to quit now. I want to make Sergeant Major by the time I'm thirty!"

"Not her," Ratchet says putting an arm around Hatchet who doesn't try in the least to push him away, "I'm the one that's getting out. I think the 'stay-at-home dad' thing is just want I want to be doing right now."

"Good for you, Brother," I say giving him a playful tap on his shoulder.

"Though, you're gonna have to learn how to cook," Hatchet says giving him a look.

"What are you talking about?" Ratchet says back to her. "You can't cook either!"

"_Exactly_," Hatchet says before we all share a laugh.

"What about you, Doc?" I ask next.

"Getting out too," he says with a grin.

"Really?" I say a little disappointed. "Going back to 12?"

"That depends…" he says trailing off.

"On what?" I ask curiously.

"On where she ends up getting stationed," He says pointing over to Amelia who's talking with Lizzy and Katniss when she notices Doc pointing at her. She just looks back to him with a coy grin. "I really think we have a chance together, Sir," Doc says hopefully.

Even though I literally want to jump for joy, I hold back all my emotion to a simple phrase, "Lord knows you deserve each other, Doc. _Congratulations_."

"What about you, Sir?" Tiller asks. "What's next for General Ares Snow?" President Holmes walks up to us and gives us her congratulations next. Finally, I get the chance to talk to her face to face about my decision.

"So, Madame President," I say with my usual flippant attitude. "It's an election year after all. Don't think you'll have any problems winning votes with how all this turned out."

"_Not on your life, Snow_," Driva replies back to me shaking her head. "This is it. I am retiring to spend my golden years in peace and quiet." Suddenly, she leans in close to my ear. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that," she says putting an arm around me. "The legislators and I were talking and we think that you should consider throwing your name in for the Presidency. Your record of service clearly stands for itself and the people of Panem definitely recognize you as a valued and experienced public servant…"

"Madame President," I say respectfully pulling her hand away from me. "I made a solemn promise to my son yesterday that I would never be away from him and Lizzy again…_and I fully intend to keep it_. I think it's time for me to focus on being a husband and a father."

"What do you mean by that, Ares?" Driva asks nervously.

"Madame President, it is with the utmost respect and gratitude that I hereby resign my commission as an officer in the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces and announce my retirement." President Holmes and the others all looked shocked. "It's time for me to finally stop being 'Colonel Snow' or 'General Snow' or even 'President Snow' and just be '_Ares_."

President Holmes just looks at me for a few seconds before finally flashing me a soft smile.

"Well, I'd like to argue with you, but I know you've earned it, old friend. Take care of yourself," she says wrapping her arms around me for the first time.

"You too," I say back to her before she lets go and moves on to the other dignitaries in attendance.

"So, we're going out drinking together one last time, right?" Tiller says to the Mockingjays.

"Afraid not, Brother," I say shaking my head. "I promised a little boy that I would play 'pirates' with him and his teddy bear tonight." The other Mockingjays laugh approvingly as I walk over to join the rest of my family.


	83. Freedom's Call Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Forty years pass in the blink of an eye. Soon after the retirement ceremony, Lizzy became pregnant with our second child. We both agreed that we didn't want to raise a family in the Capitol and moved back to the Odair family cottage in District 4 with Octavian and our new baby girl, Katniss. The years spent with my wife and children among the sand dunes and waves were by far the best of my life, but every day when I woke up and looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but be confronted with the ghosts of my past.

The nightmares changed, instead of Ohm's muttations and clouds of Shiver, they morphed into battlefields and explosions. I cannot tell you how many times I would bolt awake in the night screaming, covered in sweat and still feeling that I was in Grosfrere's sadistic presence. However, Lizzy's soft embrace and the beautiful faces of my children as they grew from innocent babes to adults wise beyond their years always reminded me that the sacrifices I made for them were completely worth the price.

Now, as the day that the news service has been talking about for months finally arrives, I find myself sitting at the end of a long wooden dock, holding a fishing pole in my hands and casting my line out into the waves.

"You're never gonna catch anything like that," Octavian would tell me over and over again as he grew up, but I found that being out in a boat with him was just too physically painful with my injuries. However, in his mature compassion, he would often put aside his own personal fishing trips to spend hours just talking with me as we stared out into the water together.

Now, as I find myself in this quiet place and he is far away shouldering his own new set of responsibilities, I cannot help but smile as I comprehend that the father has become the son, and the son the father.

"Ares!" Lizzy shouts from the porch of the cottage. "_It's time_." I quickly reel in my line, pick up my cane, and limp back towards the house. As I make my way up the steps to the front door, Lizzy holds out her arm to help me.

"Forty years, Liz, and have I ever taken that arm for help yet?" I say as I place my rod and reel next to the door and make my way over to my chair in front of the television.

"No," she says with a smile as she takes her seat next to mine, "but I'll keep trying to help you until the day I die…_or you die first_. I haven't decided yet which option I prefer," we both laugh before Lizzy turns up the volume on the television.

It is a live broadcast from the front of the Legislative Building the Capitol. On this Inauguration Day, the newscasters excitedly repeat the story of the closest election in Panem's history as they've done a million times since the ballots were tallied. A fisherman from District 4, the great-grandson of a President and the son of a war hero, who put aside all the power and benefits of his birth to become a working man, then decided to run for office when Panem began travelling down a path he didn't agree with. News anchors love human-interest stories like that.

"I really think we should have gone, Ares_…for him_."

"No, no," I say back to her. "The last thing I want is for some old worn out cripple to take any attention away from him and his accomplishments. Besides, Hatchet and Ratchet will be there and they promised they would look after him for us."

"I'd hope they'd be there considering Aurora is about to become first lady."

Our daughter-in-law, Aurora Snow, _formerly Aurora Hightower_, was the sixth surprise member of the Mockingjay team during our time in the TEC. Lizzy and I often took Octavian and little Katniss to visit Hatchet and Ratchet's new posting in District 2 as the kids grew up. Octavian and Aurora became best friends during their childhood, but by the time they were teenagers, had become much more.

The news cameras focus on the balcony of the Presidential Mansion as the official party makes their way outside. First, is the Chief Justice of the UDP Supreme Court, followed by Octavian, Aurora, our daughter Katniss and her husband Haymitch Mellark. Prim follows close behind with her husband as well. Then, the entire clan of Lizzy's and my grandchildren, twelve in all, spills out and takes their seats. Octavian insisted that not only his biological sister be present at the inauguration, but all his adopted siblings as well. When we lost Peeta, and then big Katniss a little over ten years ago, we made a promise that we would look after Prim and Haymitch like they were our own, and Lizzy and I have never faltered in that oath.

Finally, the Chief Justice takes his position. Octavian stands across from him and Aurora holds up a bound copy of the UDP Constitution.

"Mr. Snow," the Chief Justice says, "Are you prepared to take the oath?"

"I am," Octavian says with his shoulders cocked back.

"Then raise your right hand and repeat after me: _I, Octavian Snow…"_

"I, Octavian Snow…"

_"Do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem…"_

"Do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem…"

I watch in utter amazement as the little boy who clutched the teddy bear to his chest as I made a promise to him so many years ago becomes the most powerful leader in the land.

"_As fate as my Judge,"_ the Chief Justice says completing the oath.

"As fate as my Judge."

"Congratulations, Mr. President," the Chief Justice says with a smile as he shakes Octavian's hand. Aurora then leans over and Octavian plants a big kiss right on her lips. I look to the rear of the crowd on the balcony and make out Hatchet and Ratchet's smiling faces. Both of them have tears of joy in their eyes. Finally, Octavian approaches a podium and prepares to address his people for the first time as their new president.

He takes his place behind the microphone and looks out at the cheering crowd. The Mockingjay pin beams from the left lapel of his suit in the bright, Capitol sunlight. Then, Octavian begins his speech:

"It was not as easy decision for me to run for President of this Great Nation," he says with a solemn face, "Many people agreed, that a person with my last name should never hold this sacred office again. They said that it would hearken back to the Dark Days before the Revolution, and for a long time, I actually believed them. Then, as I saw that apathy, ignorance, and despair creeping back into the fabric of Panem, where the price of the latest hairstyle or the newest electronic gadget became bigger concerns than feeding the hungry or clothing the naked, I remembered something that my father told me when I was very young:

'_You are so much more than your family's history. Never, let your name stand in your way.'_

I thought about what that meant. I thought how even though my great-grandfather was an evil man, I am related to his victims as much as to his tyranny, both through blood and by marriage. My great aunt and uncle, my adopted grandmother and grandfather, and my wife's grandmother all were survivors of the Hunger Games who fought for this nation during the Revolution, and my father , my mother-in-law, and father-in-law all fought for us during the great TEC war.

Then, I finally realized that all this, while important, is not as important as WHO WE CHOOSE TO BE! Do we want to live by what we once were, or do we want to forge new and great chapters in our own time!" The crowd erupts in a cheer. Octavian graciously waits for them to calm down before starting again. "I think that my family history is a perfect metaphor for Panem. Yes, there are dark things that we must learn from, but they blend together with the glorious examples of self-sacrifice, courage, and honor that truly define us.

There are those who say that Panem's best days are behind us. That we have squandered the gifts our ancestors fought to provide us and have become the same indolent fools who left themselves to be ruled by tyranny, violence, and hate for so long…._but I disagree_. I think that the spirit that defined those who fought for our freedom, and then those who bestowed that freedom on another continent enslaved by evil men still runs strong within us! Britannia and the rest of the Independent Republics of Europe are now our closest allies. I have already conferred with their leaders and they all agree with my goals.

There are still those around the planet who have not yet felt freedom's warm embrace. They still live in poverty, in fear, in hopelessness, and in oppression. We, who now enjoy the gifts of those who sacrificed before us cannot in good conscience turn our backs on them, not when we claim as a nation to love and embrace our sacred liberty so much. I ask for the help of the brave peoples of Panem in fulfilling a solemn pledge. Centuries ago, the United Districts of Panem was once a land that was a beacon of hope, freedom, and prosperity to the entire rest of the world. _Now, I want to make it that once again._

Many of us are now too young to recall the times when oppression, poverty, and hunger were here. Times when children had to choose between facing a horrific, agonizing, and public death in the arena or watching their family starve to death in private. But what I want us to remember is far more important. I want us to remember our blessings, work to increase our gifts, and fight to spread them to all fellow members of humanity regardless of nationality, race, or creed! If we do this, then the odds will truly be ever in our favor…

THE REVOLUTION IS NOW IN OUR HANDS!

THE END


End file.
